


Frenzy

by Jeeblie



Category: Left 4 Dead (Video Games), Left 4 Dead 2 (Video Games)
Genre: Also very bitey, Big fluff eventually, Cuddly as all fuck, Ellis shows up eventually and obtains a crush, F/M, He is very grabby, Hunter eats flesh sometimes, Hunter is prepared to defend you, Hunter is prepared to slaughter you, I feel like I say its a slow burn, Left for Dead, Left for dead hunter, Mutilated bodies are a common occurence, Protective, Reader Insert, Reader swears to all goodness he's a burden, Slow Burn, but its a bit minor, but loves him deep down, but then everything just kinda crashes and burns, it happens eventually, maybe a scent kink idk, very bloody, your hunter just really likes to be around you
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-01-03 06:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 54,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21175253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeeblie/pseuds/Jeeblie
Summary: Tied down to a zombie ridden city, living and staying alive are the least of the jaded and swarming concerns that go on within your mind. No. Protecting, is your TOP and utter most important priority. No matter which side it's on.





	1. Chapter 1: The Introduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a big ol introduction

The city had been quiet today. So much more silent then it usually was.

Birds free of burden took to the skies, crying their songs and perching effortlessly onto wires and buildings. Several crows cawed, ebony feathers rustling about as they stared down at the endless streets of asphalt and debris. The sun warmed both feathers and mind- the heat being aggressive to the living creatures below it's fiery warmth.

One such person under that deafening son, was you. (Y/N) (L/N).

Traveling along bloody, and wrecked streets to find some semblance of humanity. A medium sized backpack was strapped to your back, tight if only for the reason of your own personal pet peeve. A utility belt wrapped around your waist, all sorts of things hooked on and tied to it. One such thing being a pistol- the holster conveniently hooked on the side of your dominant hand for easy access.

Your shirt- dirty- bloody- and torn at every free end, was a simple grey color. The jean shorts you were wearing were in no better condition then your shirt- only looking better thanks to the tougher material used to build them.

Still- grappled into one hand was an AKM assault rifle- you liked to say it was a fancy way of saying 'machine gun'- if only for the fact that it shot bullets at an alarming rate. Your other hand was doing something much more important.

A rather thick wire comprised of metal and any other hard resources put into it was wound around that other hand, and your arm constantly jerked forward, raw strength and effort being put into holding the metal wire next to your side.

Your face was neutral. Unblinking. More then anything annoyed by your current situation of having no food with you. The constant growling of your stomach had been a fair reminder to that problem- yet the more it rumbled the more the tugging on the rope and annoyance seemed to be spurred.

Stopping and jerking the wire back as hard as you could, the clicking and dragging of claws ceased, wire loosening as the lowly growling of your self proclaimed group member drew closer to your position.

Giving a curt glare at it as a way of telling it to keep it's distance, you shuffled around for a moment and pulled a tattered map out of your backpack's side pocket with your chained hand. Looking at a map with a gun in one of your hands was difficult, yes, but you managed anyways, unfolding and staring down the different street labels and signs. You were horrible with directions- so checking in now would be better then taking time to figure out where you were later.

"If we take a right up here on the next street It should get us there a bit faster..." Peeking up from behind the map, your eyes fell onto your hooded friend, "What do you think about that?"

As usual, there was no reply to such a question- simply guttural noises that played more into a dog persona then a legitimate reply.

Continuing, you looked back down at the map, "I could reeeally go for some soup or like grilled chicken- you'd probably really like the beef, so that's what you're getting you little dork." A soft growling noise was once again the only response given back to you.

"That settles that- we'll just go in to the store and look for whatever's still edible and within the due date.

Staring at the street names for a bit longer and internally arguing over food, you finally closed the map, folding it and returning it to its usual residing.

By now, the wire was becoming alarmingly loose with how close your teammate came, the clawing on the ground becoming louder the more it stalked towards you. Staring at the half hidden face, and natural frown therein that rested along his countenance, you rolled your eyes, fed up with all your problems.

Rather then showing that on your face though, you took a deep breath, exhaling and refocusing on your crouched teammate. Neutral faced and trying your best to look like a leader would, you shooed with your hands and waved the wire around, trying to convey the feeling of personal space to your teammate.

True- he wasn't that close to your own little barrier, but goodness knows what he'll try the moment he gets too close for comfort. Despite the time you spend with him- he still tests the boundaries far past the regular limitations that they should be at.

That was to be expected though.

He was infected.

Common people like you that didn't hear the news before internet went off the grid don't really know what to call it, nor did you expect it. It was sudden- and the only thing that you could call it was an infection.

Word on the street- which you only know based on survivors previous to you writing messages- is the names of all the types of infected. You half forgot what they were called- but you remembered what your teammate was called.

Hunter.

As lethal as they were- they could only get some real damage on someone if isolated. Unluckily for you- you were the only human you traveled with. The bright side being that your teammate was the only infected you traveled with.

Giving the wire a tug and twist, you tread forward, keeping a steady eye on the hunter's blank lower face and hooded body. He watched you closely. Too intensely for comfort, but after a few moments, he crawled forward, the harness strapped to his chest and along his broader shoulders rustling with his small movements.

He was certainly a handful- the type that gave you paranoia and the constant need to glance over at him. But to you, it was all worth those ill side effects.

Twisting the chain on your arm one last time, you watched as he made his way ahead of you, growling at nothing but the wind and trash that tumbled around.

It had been a surprise that the streets were so clear of infected as quite literally the only moving bodies were you and your hunter. The blood caked over the streets was a bit unsettling, but that part was easily ignored. After a week of nothing but blood- it was blended into the environment inside of your mind. You'd take this moment of peace as a blessing while it lasted.

The sun was slowly rising higher into the sky, heat wave deepening the further it grew.

By now, the hunter was scuttling ahead of you, standing now rather then crawling like it usually likes to do.

It was much faster while standing- so you had to continually tug and strain the metal rope.

The only thing that could complete your day of peace would be some communication, or fulfillment of the social need.

"So. Think of which food you want when we get there?" As expected, there was no explicit answer. Only silence as he tugged forward against the chain. You were prepared for such a cause, and answered for him, "I know I said you'd probably like beef- but let's be honest- Pringles are some flippin' crunchy good chips."

Grabbing the chain as you walked after your hooded companion, you looked forward with a hum, "Actually- the Lays plain chips are pretty good. Salty, but good." You looked at him attentively, "Growl if you want some salty chips on the side."

Once again, you understood the fact that there was no conscious behind his actions, so when your single answer to your question was the rattling of those wires and a hard pull on your hand, you nodded your head, "Yeah- too lunch-like to go with beef. I vote mayonnaise instead."

Nodding your head at your own genius, you stopped talking and listened to the sound of your boots solid clunk. With every step, you came closer to your destination. With every step, you were reminded that this food was for your survival. The growling from your stomach came rather naturally with your thoughts, the gurgling noise momentarily making your hunter pause to look at you.

It... was a complicated story for how the two of you ended up together. Timing and several days of sleep loss playing a part in making him your companion. The thing you had to remind yourself of, was that this infection had only lasted a week so far. It didn't make sense how everything could collapse so quickly, but you played it off.

Side note, you'd only been traveling with him for not more then five days. Surprising how quickly you'd gotten used to this way of living.

Glancing at his now crouched and growling form, you pulled on the chain when he began eyeing some crows. If he jumped- game over. He was too strong to be stopped by your arms alone.

"Ah-Ah! No. Crows." You scolded him in a deeper tone, watching as he continued to watch the crows, growls not at all signifying that he understood what you were saying. You just shook your head as he did this, tugging the chain again to pull him away from the black feathered bird. He took heed this time, and the both of you walked past the crows with no qualms.

"You know. I was thinking." Jostling the gun around a bit and winding the metal chain around your wrist just a bit tighter, you continued to walk, staring dead set at the hooded companions back. "If we found where Myles was- you think he'd scold us- or hug us? I'd for sure get a whack to the head." Glancing at a destroyed townhouse, you sniffed absentmindedly, "Not sure what he'd do to you."

Sighing, you pursed your lips. The wind was gentle this day. No change in the atmosphere despite such a drastic change in the human economy, "I really want to find them all."

You went silent for a bit, walking and paying attention to what your hunter was doing. Crouching and growling by the looks of it. The harsh noises resounding from within his throat were loud compared to the empty streets- you bet that if you tried to mimic him, your throat would hurt rather churlishly afterwards.

As suspected, another growl resounded from ahead of you, and you glanced up at the hunter. Mind you, he was looking at a robin this time rather then a crow. Rolling your eyes in an exasperated manner, you tugged on the chain again, watching as he turned to look at you instead. His hoodie blocked his eyes, the looming shadows blistering and swaying as he moved. The duck tape on his arms and legs reflected the rising sun dully; you had to squint past the small glare.

Just north of you- a sign appeared in the distance. The small and grimy green stating which street is to both left, right, and in front of you and your companion. At seeing that sign, you paused, tugging on the chain and watching patiently as your hunter took a small moment to realize you stopped. Glancing away after he ceased movement, you tugged the map out of your conveniently placed pocket on the side of your backpack.

The paper used to be rather glossy- but the wear and tear of the apocalypse made it rugged and scratched. Ignoring that fact, you opened the paper and felt the creases as you glanced over the map.

"Hmm... this looks like the street..." Taking a quick peek at the sign above the horizon of the map in your hands, you chewed you lip and looked back down, "It's the quickest way over there- so it seems fair in my opinion."

Squinting at the map, you memorized the name of the next road you needed to go on, sniffing absentmindedly as your eyes slide across the paper.

That moment didn't last long. A low groan and a sharp blight sent a jolt through your leg, pain not nearly as overpowering as the fear scuttling down your neck and across your spine. You didn't quite understand what had happened. The smallest of pinches, and the tensing of muscles, next thing you knew- you whipped around with your gun firing out bullets faster than you could have realized you have actually pulled the trigger.

Everything seemed to freeze for a moment; the situation becoming crystal clear as to what was actually happening at this moment. Your untrustworthy companion had nipped at your foot- the small jolt of pain sending you into a flurry of fear and rabid bullets.

You realized one second too late as to what had happened- the sound of the gun's previous action echoed, scaring your partner enough that he jumped several times away, pulling on the chain and by accident pulling you forward and straight onto the ground. The skin on your arms were scraped sorely and left a rather tender burning feeling on them.

You shooting your very loud gun wasn't even twice the problem. One of the many flurry of bullets shot had strayed and hit a car. Hence, the car alarm now blaring and all but putting a permanent end to your relatively peaceful day.

Screams and restless groans resounded from afar, and the metaphorical tap in your shoe was only the greatest urge to run and find safety. How unfortunate that you couldn't quite 'run for safety' due to your companion. His fickle and animalistic mind was programmed to that as a literal hunters. The moment he sees you running- he'd pounce directly onto the opportunity... to well... pounce on you.

You knew this from experience when someone traveled with you. If it wasn't for that temporary human on your side- you would have been slaughtered at the hands of your own companion's lethal claws

Thoughts aside- you needed to find a temporary cover. And fast. The cries were growing louder- and there was no way you could sprint out of this mess- that was a topic already covered.

Frantically searching the area and winding the chord connecting you to your hunter companion, you jumped up from where you lay on the ground, taking no time in making sure you were free of dirt.

By sound alone- they seemed to be coming from all directions- and with no where to go except the buildings- you walked as calmly as you could to the closest building- which wasn't too far away. Considering you couldn't outright rush over to that building and first had to direct your companion over to the building and patiently wait for him to crawl over- 'too far away' was meant as- a few feet away if you have a fast pace.

Unfortunately or not- you had to tug several times to get him to go the way you wanted him to go- the blaring car horn distracting him rather well.

He finally turned the way you wanted him too, but by then- infected came pouring around the corner of the street, shoes stomping loudly as they ran towards the car alarm.

Letting out your own growl from the stress and frustration of trying to keep alive, you squinted your eyes with a few blurry tears, continuing to try to take cover, you took aim at a few infected, pulling the trigger and letting loose a quick blur of bullets. This is why you liked automatics- they took out hordes pretty efficiently, despite wasting ammo so quickly.

Taking a few more steps in the direction you wanted to go in- your face went from frustrated to downright horrified at the next turn of events.

You weren't sure what was worse- the fact that the horde was on your tail- the suddenly loose grip on the only thing that kept you and your companion as traveling buddies- or the haggard feeling around your neck- tying around you as a noose and jerking you back so hard your wind pipes cut off circulation.

No. Not even the last option was the worst option- the fact that the chain around your wrist was gone drove that feeling of hopelessness all the way home. Through squinted eyes, you watched as your companion waddled around on all fours, completely oblivious to your dread and panic. You didn't want to loose him- not now.

Smoker. That's what they were called.

The damned bastard.

Course he's gotta hone in on the only person without a reliable party to help out.

No-... you trained him for this- you tried to train him for this- come on- he knows what to do! And if he doesn't then you'll just have to get his attention and pull off the stupid-

You flinched as you hit your head on a pole while being dragged-

-fucking kill command!!

Watching as he kept dawdling around, you made the rash decision that the kill command was the only way to get him to do anything.

Opening your mouth as wide as you could, you yelled whatever came to mind- you just needed his attention to give him the signal, "HEY! You *HuRk*" The tongue tightened around your neck, "BASTARd- Look AT Me!"

At the sound of a human voice, he turned to look at you with that infinitely blank face.

In the background the horde drew even closer.

Now or Never.

First slapping your gun twice against you thigh as you struggled, you threw it on the ground, the metal clattering loudly against the concrete.

Everything slowed down at that moment. The gun rattling wildly and the hordes screams and yells.

Those lingering shadows underneath his hood became a tight winding venom as he stared dead at the gun hitting the ground, lethal gaze settling forward just as time returned and the horde rushed past him, and towards you.

You couldn't see him now.

Not past the endless bodies of infected's legs, and definitely not with your blurring vision.

Clutching the grimy tongue and struggled weakly was the only thing you could do. You felt as though you lost a part of yourself. He was hiden in the horde now- and the clenching in your heart was one of grief.

Not to be a downer, but something about the horde drawing closer practically spelled out your death in full. Wonder what.

Not to mention your one ticket out of here was one of them-... and somehow knowing that made you feel bitter.

But, on a different note- it would appear your training held at least a small portion of significance in his dumb mind.

As lo and behold, several of the infected's bodies were flung- gore spilling from some excruciatingly looking lacerations along the mid section of their bodies.

Relief couldn't begin to describe how much joy you were feeling at the moment. Your back had hit the wall of a building- the smoker's tongue having run its course and pulled you straight down the street. The horde was being torn apart at the moment. Any infected that ran in front of your companion- which was literally every infected- was cut down by their legs instantaneously- the stranglers that were on the sides being spared of the gruesome fate. He was like a god among servants in a simply manner of speaking- strength against the weak easily clearing a path for him.

He was dead locked onto you quite unfortunately, as the moment he reached jumping distance, his legs jolted downward before releasing. He was a powerful thing to mess with. A beast made of rage and muscle. But when the memory of the pure force behind his jump resurfaced- the helplessness of being slashed at- you heavily flinched- reeling your head in to protect your neck, and squeezing your eyes closed with a burning will to live.

That was the end.

But unlike what your adrenaline packed body had decided to tell you- death's knock wasn't for you to answer.

One scuffle of legs- one ear splitting scream that came from the underworld itself, and one loud slam of boots on bricks, yet you hadn't died. Instead you fell.

The tongue loosened considerably as you hit the cement- your palms instinctively splaying across the hard ground. The remnants of the rotten flesh fell down like a snake after you, touching the roads with a splat of wet flesh. A large wheeze of smoke and air releasing came from above, only confirming your suspicion that your companion had killed it in cold blood, based on the gory noises above.

Despite still being worried about your companion, you shook it off, focusing on trying to live through the vicious horde of infected civilians.

You had adrenaline on your side as well as the new and re-founded hope that your hunter companion was still somewhat on your side. Pushing yourself off the ground, you glared at the growling mass of bodies and people.

You could handle this...

Snatching the switch blade from my pocket, you had only wished to have your automatic back- fast- powerful- and designed to readily sunder down large groups.

The first infected to reach you opened its maws far wider than any human could, skin ripping in resilience.

You jammed the blade as deep as you could into its head, flinching as it crunched. It took a great effort to pull the knife from its head afterwards, and by then- the rest of the hoard had finally caught up to you.

If only your hands were wrapped around that stupid gun you had to throw on the ground.

Kicks- punches- and occasional swipes from your knife were your main actions- the crowd closing in and smashing you to the wall as you tried desperately to keep yourself stable from their claws and nips.

One made it past your knife, latching onto your non-dominant arm's skin.

You were being swarmed despite your efforts- hazardously trying to crawl away, and feeling so much more claustrophobic then you'd ever imagined you could be. Several more reached their grimy fingers forward- ready to bring down their unbridled wrath. And they did- claws reaching down your body and ripping a long line of thread and blood from your shirt and skin.

You kicked- and moved your arms about the best you could, but the force of the crowd was far too much.

Things couldn't have been worse. Not that being in an apocalypse wasn't already the worst, but it felt like it.

Nipping, clawing, shoving- all of it hurt. Swinging your knife around didn't seem to do much, taking them out one at a time, only for another to replace the circle surrounding you.

Growling in your own frustration, you flinched when another one targeted where your the last one bit your arm.

Screwed. Utterly screwed. That's what you were- but you kept struggling, stabbing, punching, pushing, simply trying to make a dent in the bustle of bodies. They were much like bees in winter, vibrating and moving at all times around you.

With a quick look, and rationalization, you had realized there was a rather conveniently placed hole in the wall. Hand sized if anything.

Giving the crowd one last hefty push, you took your chances and turned your back.

They clawed heavily the moment you turned, some grabbing parts of your shirt and ripping pieces out of it like that was the last thing they'd ever grab. Thankfully, you jumped before too much damage was done to yourself, placing your right hand into that convenient hole. The long claw mark on your back would sting for a while, but it wouldn't incapacitate you.

Heaving yourself up onto the side of the wall, you struggled to keep your feet planted on the flat side of the brick. Your right hand's skin feeling ripped at the pull of gravity.

Their grubby hands clutched to the bottom of your legs, but the stiff material protected your skin from their swipes.

If you could just get up this wall and over to that fire escape, things would be alright, but who were you kidding. You're not a parkour expert. Heck, you weren't even the most athletic person. Struggling to stay just above the hoard could only last so long.

Sweeping the wall with an observant glance you felt sweat pulling down your back. The constant tugging on your legs would eventually pull you down...

You almost cried out in joy when you spotted another hole in the wall.

Wiggling your legs out of their grasps and head kicking the stragglers on the side, you decided now or never, and used the best of your arm strength to pull yourself up to the new opening, which was large enough for both of your hands this time. Your right leg scrunched up and placed itself in the first hole you had jumped to.

Temporarily safe was most true in a time like this, but safe was safe, and with death not right on you, you looked around fretfully.

You didn't know where he could have jumped off to- or if he was still on that window with a dead smoker carcass clenched between his jaws. The more you glanced, the increasingly worried you became.

Surely he hadn't have ran off? He couldn't have- that just wasn't the way this was supposed to be.

Your disbelief lead an unwilling watery feel to come to your eyes, and you shook your head with a fervent "no."

"That couldn't have happened..." You whispered unconsciously to yourself. The hoard's crying and howling preventing you from hearing your own reassurance.

The more you thought, the more you grieved losing that dumb animal of a person. Infected, you had to remind yourself. A normal person can't jump to the second story window with a crouching start.

Pulling your lips in, you soured at the thought. He's not a person- getting so worked up was pointless.

That didn't stop you from regretting so many things you'd never do. Like casually eat that dinner of beef and mayonnaise you'd so recently talked about.

Clenching your hands harder around the stiff and crumby bricks, you huffed. It shouldn't be such a surprise. He always was an animal.

Shaking your head, you decided to re-focus back on your own safety, scouring the bricks momentarily until you spotted another conveniently placed hole, this one much larger then the ones you're currently using. It was farther away too...

Taking the chance, you swung yourself a bit, tipping one hand out and just barely brushing the hole.

You re-situated yourself on your old spot, frowning as you tried to think of how to reach it.

Testing your luck again, you swung out toward the hole, fingers momentarily touching and grabbing the edge, before getting jerked back by the gravity of your swing.

Full on scowling now, you breathed deeply through your nose before trying one last swing. This time, you successfully reached the hole, letting your old spot go and instead clutching to the new perforation.

You could do this. You had to.

Taking in a deep breath, the smell of blood permeated through your nose, and the sun with its fiery stare was blocked by a passing cloud. Once again, your feet were hanging. Not nearly close enough for them to reach you, there was a good feet or two between you and the hoard's outstretched hands.

It took a small breeze for you to only just now realized one of them had taken off your shoe during that scramble to get up here in the first place. Unfortunate, but livable.

Looking towards the fire escape, you tried your best to get a firm settling with your feet, one boot pressed to the wall and one sock placed alongside it.

One last leap and you could do this. You'd get to the fire escape, and go somewhere from there.

Shimmying your way as close to the fire escape as you could, you took a deep breath before jumping over.

Your ribs were the first thing to make contact, the wind being knocked out of you rather quickly. Somehow you still held on to the metal bars.

It took you a moment of sitting there to finally pull yourself over the fence, your back colliding heavily with the floor and making the fire escape shake. Thanks goodness the ladder was pulled up- else the hoard could reach you.

Weakly putting your hand in front of your face you stared at it. Kinda blurry looking, but you could work over that. Huffing a breath, you sat up, glancing over the edge to see the squabbling hands and bustling bodies.

You cursed when you felt the holster on your leg. The pistol had fallen out, and in your panic to fight off the hoard, you had taken out your knife instead.

At least you had back up.

Placing your backpack on your lap, you began to search through it. Now that you had a moment to properly look through your belongings, you could take out your spare gun. Just a small pistol, identical to the one you lost, and you hoped by the gods that this one too didn't some how fall out.

You sighed in relief when you found a rather large bundle of cloth. As a safety precaution you wrapped it up. Any of the random junk in here could pull the trigger, so you took the appropriate action.

Zipping your backpack up, you re-positioned it on your back before unwrapping the pistol. Not the most powerful, but it was something. You used the wrapping from the gun to quickly fix up the bite in your arm, which stung with an agony on could only compare to the the sensation of fire.

Once you finished your arm, you grabbed the pistol again and looked around the area. You had to check at least on more time for your companion.

Still, he was missing.

That fact saddened you, and you took another gulp of air to quell your beating heart.

Finally standing up, you took your pistol in hand and glanced at the hoard. The real question is do you want to go back for that nice gun of yours, or do you just want to skip it and go up the roof.

On the flip side, waiting it out on the roof means you can go get your gun too.

Let's rephrase this question of action.

Look for your companion... or wait things out on the roof and possibly never see him again.

Your scowled at the thought.

Raising your pistol, you took aim.

Safety lock pulled out,

Back of the gun pulled tight against your palm,

and finger brushing the trigger with a feathery light tenderness,

you jerked the trigger backwards.

__________

That gun shot was loud.

All gun shots were.

Your ears rang with the force put behind the bullet that fell an unfortunate infected. Something you never understood was why hoards weren't summoned from the sound of a gunshot. They were louder then car alarms, much louder, and the only thing you could come up with to give meaning to that was that gun shots weren't consistent. Some here, some there, a few twenty there.

That was just trivial thought in your mind.

With that annoying ringing in your ear you barely heard a different noise, that in theory had much more of a weight then the mechanics of the hoards.

It was a lighter sound, more airy. Like sense of dread, only it flew upwards rather then downwards.

Hope, most likely, and it wasn't until your ears refocused that you finally assessed what that noise was.

Jingling. Clanging. Small chinks that scraped across the cement. It sounded like the gentle dangling of dog tags, or in short, what the chain around that hunter's chest sounded like. Your hunter's chest.

It came from above, not below.

Grabbing the pistol tighter to your hands, you tried to lean over the edge and peer upwards. You honest to goodness couldn't see anything up there, but you sure as hell heard something. That much you were sure of.

Adjusting your grip to the pistol, you cautiously but hurriedly started up the fire escape.

Climbing, climbing, and tediously climbing upwards. It wasn't until you reached the second to the first level that you really started to rush. The dragging sound was there, as well as a low rumble.

A growl. One that unmistakably belonged to a hunter.

Unknown Object

Rushing to the last level, you took one last glance at the street below you before jumping up over and onto the roof. From some heavenly force, there he was. Fifteen or Twenty dead bodies surrounding him. A piece of flesh was hooked between his teeth, and blood covered both the front of his shirt and his notched hands.

He didn't turn toward you. Instead he kept growling and ripping off parts of the dead bodies.

It was a sick sight to see- and you supposed eating beef and mayonnaise was off for today- but just seeing that familiar lug made you want to rush up and give him a hug. Not a smart thing to do when a kill command was the last thing you instructed him to do, so rather then running up, you silently walked around him, and toward the chain that was sprawled haphazardly along the roof.

His body twitched the moment you took a step in the chains direction, and you flinched at that, staying still.

The shadows around his face as he turned toward you made you want to reconsidered taking a step anywhere close to him, but you ignored that in the hope for a better outcome.

Taking another step toward the chain, you watched him intently as he got into a more crouched position. The bodies he had been at work with were left to sag lifelessly.

Shuffling even more towards the chain, you narrowed your eyes as he splayed one hand out in front of him, mouth closed as the growling in the back of his throat became more silenced. You hated that you couldn't read his expression. There was never an expression.

Frowning, the chain was just a few inches away from you. He moved one of his back legs, inching closer towards you. In response to his movement, you slowly lowered into a crouch yourself, one hand outstretching toward the chain.

His second hand lined up with his first hand, and by now, he was fully facing you. Focused solely on what your moving hand was reaching for, or maybe he was focusing on your stare- you couldn't tell.

The split second your finger brushed the chain, his body lowered near to the ground as he shot up and towards you. His scream was ear piercing, and honestly hurt your already hurt ears.

Rolling out of the way, you grabbed the chain, sliding as you turned to look back at his body, which skidded through the area you had just been sitting in.

His focus was still on you as he crouched again, legs buckling as he shot up and towards you again.

Adrenaline spiked through your body as you dodge rolled his jump another time, this time staying closer by.

If you could just reach the chain on the back of this chest- force him to look a different way and have time to settle down- then you could keep moving.

Breathing heavily as he pivoted towards you, you jumped over the hand swiping at you, taking a huge risk and plunging towards his back.

He shot out of the way before you could reach him, hands slapping into the roof and the chain firmly wrapped in your grasp tugging you forward and grinding your hands. He momentarily paused at the tug, standing still and almost seeming confused that he was getting tugged backwards when he wanted to go forwards.

You took the moment, rushing up in his moment of freeze and gripping the chain like harness along his back.

He tried jolting again, but you kept your feet grounded into the roof, struggling to keep standing at the force of his jump.

He's a beast, that's for sure.

But rather then letting that deter you, it just made you clutch even tighter to the hard metal.

Your foot was scraped through the sock when he tried jumping again, and this time you did stumble forward, falling into his back and effectively forcing him to the ground.

He yelped like a dog, digging his nails into the roof, yet he didn't try to jump.

Motionless, and still. He breathed heavily, but slowly.

You matched his breath, slowly reeling in, before pushing out with just enough force to move the bit of hair that hung in your face from the fall. Your knuckles turned white with how hard you clasped the two parts of the chain.

Another deep breath in.

Another forceful push out.

He released his tensed claws from the roof, instead choosing to let them sit splayed across the ground. You didn't stop tensing your fingers though, absentmindedly wrapping the leash part farther around your hand. Your muscles stung sorely at how much you were using them. The bleeding bite in your arm, the hundreds of small marks from the infected's claws over your body, and the sheer exhaustion from not having your lunch but technically breakfast were overwhelming you.

It took a moment for your companion, but he seemed to realize that he wasn't in any way pinned to the ground. He retracted his arms and pushed his upper body off the ground, in return pushing you up off the ground as well. Both of your legs were stretched out alongside each other.

Of course he'd realize that you couldn't keep him to the ground. His strength takes him several yards into air, your body was nothing but a moderate annoyance if anything.

Deciding it was now or never to get off him and see if he had stopped trying to murder everything he sees, you stood up, watching from above as he pulled his legs back under his body and positioned himself back into his crouched position.

He turned and looked at you, but thankfully, moseyed along, taking a few steps around the roof before looking at you expectantly.

You couldn't help but smile in relief. Everything was back to normal. You eyed the blood all over his face and clothes. Moderately. You'd have to wash his face later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dangerous- yes.


	2. Chapter 2: The Stake Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader scared.  
Hunter passive.

You had never felt this tired before in your life. The whole fiasco of almost loosing your only companion- and at this point almost dying- had sent you into hysterics. Chattering a constant whisper to him from afar and giggling quietly if only to try to confirm that he was still there. Sighing, you rubbed your head.

You were attached to him, you couldn't help that fact.

Shakily, you stood up, placing your hands on the roofs stone walls to try to steady yourself. A ring of grime was surrounding your neck- an ever present reminder of the smoker having had you caught.

You shuddered, reaching your free hand up to touch your dirty neck. You wanted to get a shower- but that would leave you in a vulnerable position, so you chucked that thought out the window, or over the roof in this situation.

Heaving another sigh, you looked down at the growling and restless infected. Most, if not all, still had their attention on you from where you stood at the top of the roof, so instead, you sat back down, ducking from their lingering gazes.

That wasn't to say there wasn't another gaze on you. Your hunter stared at you complacently, crouched, but it no way taunt and posed to kill. You supposed that was at least one good fact about the moment.

On the contrary, you felt ready in every way to give way and start to run. The fading adrenaline levels still had a bit of kick, and the more you tried to forcefully relax your muscles, the more tense they became.

It would run out eventually, and you hoped sooner rather then later. It's always good to replenish your energy, even when it feels like you don't need it. It was a weird feeling- being so pumped up and ready to run, yet equally tired and ready to fall over. Exhausted mentally worked better then tired.

Pressing a hand to your heart, you looked around again, taking in the area of the roof. The dead bodies he had been chewing on were left on their lonesome, bite and claw marks all along their abdomen, and more specifically, around their stomach.

The guts laying all around made you flinch for a moment, but you ignored that, focusing on standing up and working your way over to them. You may have been desensitized, but you didn't want it in front of you the whole time you were up here.

As you made your way over to the bodies, your companion followed, sniffling near your feet in an unsaid question and curious sense. He very clearly didn't understand what you were doing, but followed nonetheless.

Stooping next to the first body- a middle aged man at the looks- you hooked your hands under his arms and hoisted him up. Again, the hunter looked at you, even more confused by now. Once again, you ignored him, wondering over to the edge of the building and dumping the dead body over the side. It hit the ground with a dull thud.

Huffing, you walked to the other- middle aged female this time- and repeated the process, watching the body fall, hit, and splatter.

You had dumped the bodies over the opposite side you came up from, as to not make more noise and keep the horde there longer. Seizing the moment, you leaned on the concrete railing of the building, keeping in mind of the shuffling behind you.

A body stood next to you, hands and chest pushed against the concrete. The hunter was staring at the bodies you dropped, head just barely peaking over as he did.

He glanced between them before settling back onto all four of his limbs, mouth looking a bit tense.

"Feels like covering up a murder- doesn't it?"

His head snapped upward at you.

"At least... that's what I think it kinda feels like." You finished with a sigh, turning your gaze away from the two splattered bodies and sliding your back down the railing.

Sitting on the ground brought your sizes into scale, your companion being bigger length wise. You simply watched as he put a hand out, inching closer. Making a shooing motion with your hand, you forced him to take a step back, frowning mildly at this whole situation.

A low growl rumbled in his throat, before he turned the other way, crawling around all slow like and scanning the blood and internal organs that still sat on the roof. Not to your surprise, he trotted up to it and started eating. Not nearly as brutal as before, more of a nibbling type of eat.

Your own stomach growled at the thought of food, however disgusting his eating habits were. Sighing, you reached into your bag, pulling out a granola bar that you would have preferred to keep for rations.

Peeling the plastic, the first bite was like heaven. Anything that was reminiscent of a time before now was a pleasant luxury. That and being hungry made it easier to chow down on anything, even if it was a slightly stale granola bar that sat in your cabinet for half a year.

Despite the disgusting sight it was to see him eat human organ, you watched anyway. Didn't want him sneaking up on you again, even if his constant rumbling and growling making it easier to hear him.

You wished things weren't like this. The whole apocalypse wasn't what you had in mind for a Sunday evening. You were pretty sure it was a Sunday. The first week being dealt with more swiftly. You actually traveled with people during the first week. Got split up, and some stuff went down. Your not sure you'll see those people again. You hoped you will. How couldn't you wish to see them when two of them were siblings and the other was a close cousin.

Reminded you of the good old days.

"Hey." You said, taking another bite out of your granola and watching as he paused his eating to look at you.

"Remember when Bobby pushed the both of us down a hill?" He let out a puff of indignance before returning to his meal.

"We were so mad at him... You ended up falling into the river!" You let out a warm laugh.

"'Bobbbyyyyy...! Why'd you do it...!?' you had wined, and the only thing Bob could say was, 'If you'd have a lick of sense you wouldn't be standing at the top of the hill so teasing like.'"

"We forced him to bye us ice cream. You got chocolate, and I got vanilla. Ended up mixing them and sharing a bowl of melted 'choconilla' ice cream."

Your companion let out a low growl, jaw moving as he chewed the last bit of his self proclaimed food. You just sighed at him.

"Those were the good old days." Glancing around the roof, you paused before looking back at him, "Guess there's no point in looking back on them now."

Taking the last bite of your granola bar, you tossed the trash and picked yourself up off the ground.

That open door that led to the lower parts of the building had been bothering you for quite some time. Something could just up and wander up here anytime it wanted, and you made up your mind to barricade it.

Twisting the chain around your arm, you started to search the roof for something that could help with the barricade. The main things hanging around were broken pieces of rotten wood, some cinder blocks, a tarp, and what looked like half a table.

You took it upon yourself to move the cinder blocks over to the door first, the hunter following you a good foot away the entire time you moved the three cinder blocks. They made a good barricade up and by themselves, but for good measure you lugged the broken door over and propped it under the door knob the best you could. It would at least make a hefty amount of noise if someone did push it over when opening the door.

You settled on grabbing the tarp and sitting in a corner of the roof closer to the hoard. They'd leave eventually. You'd have to wait it out till them.

Your companion, who had been following you around as you walked, had settled on watching you a few feet away. He rested complacently on his haunches, and stared at you as though expecting you to do something.

You did nothing though, and only watched as he watched back.

He grew bored of that game rather quickly though, instead walking toward the little bit of guts still left on the ground. His chain clicked as he crawled, dragging along the ground with a grating sound.

What mildly surprised you was that he started hitting the guts around like a cat toy. If anything, you were expecting him to eat the rest of it.

He carried on like that for awhile, hitting it around and scraping his claws against the ground as he threw them. It was a dark sight- infected human batting infected human guts around. Made you want to up that granola bar you downed, but you held it in.

At least he seemed to be having whatever type of fun he could have, considering he was infected.

Definitely a strange one. You've observed the infected before. Don't eat, sleep, or drink water. The only thing you've had difficulty getting your companion to consume is water. Sometimes your positive he's awake when you fall asleep, though you have caught him sleeping a couple times, wakes up the moment you move, but it's happened. At least he eats alright.

A chocking noise snapped you out of your thoughts. Whipping your head up, your met with the hunter chocking on something. He hacked a few more times for you to get worried, but by the time you made a movement to go and help him, he spit it up by then. Looked like a penny.

You sat back down, squinting at that fact. Honestly, you didn't question it. He swallowed weird junk all the time.

Kinda like a dog.

Smiling at that thought, you let out a small laugh, "Your a goof." Was all you said.

He glanced up at you for that, bloody mouth pursed.

Shaking your head, you pulled a rag out of your bag, along with a water bottle. Shaking the chain, you tugged him over towards you, just a small bit of resistance being met before he crawled over without much thought.

In front of you now, sitting on his haunches, you poured some water onto the rag before leaning toward him. He didn't flinch until he realized it was water, jerking his head back for a couple seconds until you tugged his chain and forced him to sit still.

The frown on his face was sour, and when you brought the rag close to his face he tried to nip your fingers. You couldn't bring it close to his teeth bared mouth, and you were beginning to get rather annoyed.

"Sit. Still." He made a growling noise, and tried to nip at your hand, to which you promptly wrapped your free hand around his jaw and nose. Several muffled yelps came from him as he jerked away from your hand, taking a good few steps backwards.

You groaned at his movement, slapping a bloody hand your forehead. It only had blood on it because of the blood all over his chin. The blood that you had been trying to get off. "Uggghh- I'm just trying to clean your face. Get over here please."

He growled, huffing and crawling a bit farther away from you. Getting fed up with his sass, you stood and walked over to him, sitting down and hooking an arm around his neck.

Your companion only huffed a breathy rumble, resigning to sit in his own irritation. With that, you wiped the blood off his face, squeezing the rag and adding more water before wiping over anything you had missed the first time.

He was annoyed, and so were you, but the company was still pleasant nonetheless.

Trudging back to your backpack and wringing the rag, you placed it into a plastic bag before slipping it the front pocket. The hunter kept his distance, trying to wipe the extra water off his face somewhat reminiscent of a cat.

Plucking the tarp from off the ground, you sat back into the corner and pulled it around you. Rest was important. You needed it, and you were trying your best to get it.

The hunter grumbled, chain dragging as he waddled closer towards you. You watched, keeping an eye on his now clean jaw. His hoodie had blood on it, near the chest area, but that was something you couldn't fix. His claws were bloody and dirty, but cleaning those would be pointless as he walked and stepped in blood all the time.

He tried to crawl up next to you, but you pushed him back, keeping the constant reminder that he favored nipping and biting at things close to him rather then being motionless. A restless one if you would.

A small flurry of growls and displeased yelps came from him when you pushed him away a second time, and he sat a distance away from you with a displeased slouch in his back.

Thinking nothing of it, you simply hunkered down, pulling the tarp to your face as you tried to rest.

You simply couldn't though. No matter how hard you tried to settle those hard wired nerves of instinct and malignancy that whispered in your ear and told you to keep running and fighting for your life- you couldn't. In the several minutes you sat resting there, your leg would twitch with the need to run, your fingers would squeeze as though holding a gun, and your breath had an airy feel about it, as though your lungs needed more and more to keep you fighting.

Ignoring it was the only thing you could do. So as you sat there, bundled in your new found tarp, you watched your companion crawl around. Chain dragging from his harness and thoughts of how and why this came to be.

As to how it happened, you could barely remember the glazed images that passed your eyes. You could, however, remember very vividly the emotions you felt. So pained, and shocked. The electricity of fear shuttling through your spine and making you cry, and beg.

Desperate.

Hateful. Specifically at him.

There was no reason to be angry at him. You just needed something to blame it all on.

Watching him now, you wished to be closer.

Closer, closer. . .

Closer.

Shaking your head about wildly, you reacquainted yourself with your surroundings. Thinking like that's dangerous.

Don't do it again.

That's a good idea.

From the corner of your eye, the sun gleamed a brilliant orange hue. Clouds, bystanders to the radiant light, were dipped in an ever silky fuchsia and coral color. It was beyond beautiful from on top this building, and it faintly reminded you of the mornings spent inside your company filled kitchen. The bitter smell of coffee brewing, and the gentle clanks of spoons on porcelain bowls.

The cereal was always so sugary. Just the way you liked it.

The small chatter was familiar, and on equal scales it was pleasant.

Warm toast, melted butter, anything that felt like home, felt like comfort. Bacon sizzling, and the warm touch on the shoulder from a sibling.

That was what felt like home.

Not the cold concrete pressed to your back.

Finally, the effects of being on the run had begun to wear out. Your eyes becoming half lidded as you watched your companion sniff his claws with an untold curiosity. If it even was curiosity.

It would feel nice. Nice to sleep.

____________________

You weren't sure what time it was when you had awoken.

You felt nice though. Refreshed, considering how grimy and greasy you were from lack of showering.

Clearly, you hadn't had a good sleep in a while.

The tarp you had fell asleep with was wrapped around your being, and your right arm was under your head as a pillow.

You didn't feel like getting up.

Not at all.

But survival meant moving.

And in turn, sleeping in this morning meant a worse outcome then getting up.

You already tested your luck by sleeping a whole night. Any sort of stray infected could have wandered over and killed you in your sleep.

Cracking an eyelid open, you were met with your backpack. Looking a bit tattered over your adventure in the apocalypse so far. The rips in it were well worn, while the hilt of pistol you had placed in the pocket peeked just out of the zipper.

Yawning of the sleep induced tiredness, you rubbed your eyes before moving your legs around. A cold shiver ran down your spine when your leg hit something gently. Shooting up, you took in the sight of your companion curled up next to your right leg. Quiet breaths that almost sounded like a small growl left his throat.

It would have been rather cute, if not for the blood that was once again all over his face. Glancing up from his form, nine to ten bodies were spread out over the roof, chests ripped open and blood injecting a metallic smell into the air.

Everything about the sight was disgusting, but after seeing things like this for the past several days, you brushed the thought off your shoulder and turned attention back to the hunter.

The blood from his mouth has long dribbled on your pant leg and dried. His chin was propped on your shin ever so rudely, and clearly, someone decided that intruding infected was a good midnight snack.

The fact that he killed them and not you made you feel slightly more comfortable with your infected companion. Kinda made you think of a guard dog.

Swallowing your thoughts, you pulled your leg away from the bottom of his chin, watching as he immediately stood up, alert and questioning why what he was resting on was moving.

He was definitely weird. You observed the other infected, they never sleep. Never. And you would know, stayed up a whole night watching them on the first day this whole virus broke loose.

Your companion pawed at your foot, inching closer to you and seeming rather invested in your shoe laces. Squinting your eyes at him, you shook your leg, making sure he was a safe distance away before standing up yourself, slinging your backpack over your back and grabbing the pistol from its pocket.

The chain around your arm was tight, but you checked to make sure it was there anyway.

From below you, the hunter stared, absentmindedly flicking his tongue out to lick the dried blood off his face. He didn't get very far doing that, giving up reaching the rest of it and instead licking his teeth before finally closing his maw.

A sigh seeped past your lips, before you set your backpack back down. Unzipping the zipper and reaching for a different rag and the water bottle, you beckoned the hunter forward.

He didn't follow your hand signals, so giving a quick tug on the chain, you watched as he pawed closer to you. First thing he tried to do was sniff your arm, but keeping in mind the nips he'll give, you moved your arm out of the way.

Pouring water onto the washcloth, you went for his chin with your free hand, wiping the blood the best you could.

He protested it just like last time, albeit more silently then before. From beneath the hood you could see his eyes giving a nasty looking glare.

...They used to be a brighter green...

Shaking your head, you cut off your train of thought. No sir ree, we are not thinking about past mojo. This is the present.

A growl rumbled through his throat just as you finished wiping his slightly torn up face. The cuts he has will probably scar. Funny how many he has actually. Most of them you were sure he got from jumping into scrap metal and debris. All except the one pair.

Raising your hand up to his face, you scrutinized the murky eyes that followed the movement of your hand. A tentative growl started in the base of his throat. A warning? A signal? You didn't know. Instead, you reached past his slightly pursed mouth running a hand through the soft hair close to his ear.

The low rumble that started in his throat became softer at your touch. Softer, louder.

Still his eyes watched, the squint in them leaving as he stared curiously at the side of your arm he could see. Curious. How he could be curious when every other creature around here was made of nothing but pure rage was puzzling.

Biting your tongue, you moved your hand further along his head, hood falling down with your movement. Light reached his face, to which he blinked his eyes several times, the large gashes just below his eyes already scabbing over in the already begun healing process.

His hair was just as sweaty as yours, yet you still ran a hand through it, the rumbling growing louder. At this point, it was almost a chur, light, airy, and it it wasn't for his mouth being closed, it would be just as loud as his deep snarling.

His head began to lean into the strokes of your hand, lips pulling up as he bared his teeth. The shine of his teeth made something click in you. Sharp, that's what they were.

Realizing what you had been doing, you snapped your hand back to your side, clenching your teeth and frowning openly at your actions.

He's infected. He's a wild animal at this point.

At your sudden frantic movement, his eyes shot up to you, wide, feral. His jaw opened before snapping shut, making a small click noise.

He seemed confused, eye brows furrowing, as he leaned closer to you.

His nostril flared as he sniffed at you, putting his nose against your shoulder. The eyes that were once so intent on your hand had closed, the sniffing subsiding as he simply pushed his closed teeth against your shoulder.

A small terror ran through you at his actions, he didn't bite, but the threat of a bite made your actions take a rash turn.

Your hands flew up, shoving him back with an unsteady force.

Despite not being nearly enough force to topple him, he took several steps back, eyes once again confused looking. He sniffled at your feet again, biting gently at your shoe before finally loosing interest and turning his back to you.

Despite shoving him away, there was still one last thing you had to take care of with him, so you took a moment to recompose yourself. Eyes wandering from the tip of his hood, to the palms that were spread out across the rooftop.

His face may have been cleaned, but the gashes under his eyes haven't been. If you didn't keep up with that wound it could have the potential to get a nasty infection.

Tugging his chain for the last time, you pulled him closer to you again. He stared at you without nearly as much resistance as he did the last few times. His hood was already pushed back from the last time you tried cleaning his face, so shuffling around in your backpack you pulled out a small bottle of peroxide. You needed more of the stuff- cleaning his wounds once in the morning makes you run out fast.

Placing the rag on the nose of the bottle, you poured, before screwing the cap back on and placing it in the bag.

Your companion seemed to know what was happening, a few sniffs from his snout and he began making rather nervous fidgets. Despite the uneasiness, he sat there waiting for the rag in your hand to reach his face.

Which it did. He flinched when it first touched his wound, hissing and growling, and scuttling his claws along the ground as if to grab and squeeze something. His nails ended up clawing lines into the concrete, alarmingly close to where your kneeling leg is.

Ignoring the sharp nails, you continued, dabbing around the scabbing and open flesh.

His grunting and growling was the most resistance he showed to you, still grinding his nails into the floor and clenching his teeth.

Finishing with the wound under the first eye, you began to dab the wound under his second eye.

Both wounds were pretty gruesome. The memory of how it happened even worse.

Wiping it one last time, you tucked the rag back from were you pulled it from, huffing as you reached up and pulled the hood back over his face. It felt like a necessary thing to do, keeping the hood on that is. A way to part ties with the whole person thing. He's a person, but he isn't the person I, or anyone else knew.

It's best to leave things like that behind, or else things would get over complicated for a time where its best that things be simple.

Brushing your hands against your jeans, you stood up, hoisting your bag onto your back and shimmying until both straps were securely around your arms.

"Let's go bud. We should check and see if my guns down there, or if the hoards moved on a bit."

He grunted, crawling forward as you took your first step in the direction of the fire escape. The bodies you walked past left a displeasing thought in your mind. Something along the lines of, 'what if he did the same to me,' but you tread forward, stepping over the torso of a teenager.

Peeking over the edge, you were pleased to see that most of them were gone, the stranglers that were left behind were dragging their feet and not at all interested in the roof you were standing on. You could handle those few infected. Your knife could do it just fine.

Clicking the safety back onto your pistol and placing it into your holster securely, you looked at your companion on last time.

"You ready?"

A low growl.

"Then let's go."

Swinging your feet over the roof's railing, you landed on the fire escape with a loud and clunky thud of your boots, the whole contraption shaking from your sudden weight.

The hunter came next, leaping down with grace, yet his weight was even more then yours, making it shake worse then before.

You stood it out though, keeping yourself steady before walking down the steps. The hunter stood up from behind you, walking past you with a fast gait, stopping and looking back toward you.

Hopefully you can find your shoe. Walking around with one sock and one shoe was strange, and definitely not safe considering any shattered glass.

Absentmindedly, you kept walking, grazing past the stone stare of your hunter, even when he began to match your pace rather then speed walking ahead.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, you unhooked the ladder watching it slide down and hit the ground with a loud 'tunk.'

The noise garnered the attention of those few passerby infected, causing them to immediately dart towards you. Being smart, you let them come up the ladder, stabbing them before they got too close. Your hunter crouched next to you, growling and snarling at the infected that tried to make it passed your knife.

He seemed to want to pounce on them more then anything, but he sat still next to you, lowered and snarling.

When the infected finally cleared out, you made your way down, feet being greeted with dead bodies.

Tugging the chain, the hunter followed after you, landing and speed walking a good few feet in front of you.

Shifting your attention to the side of the building, you glanced around the ground. Spotting your shoe rather simply, you picked it up off the ground.

Your gait finally felt right again when you slipped on your shoe, the dirty shoelaces untied and ripped from the pulling they had endured.

You scoffed, bending down and tying them.

Standing back up and making your way to where you had first dropped your gun, it was easy to pick out the black and brown outside of the gun. Narrow nozzle, and stocky grips on the ammunition being very definable to your eyes.

Stopping, the gun sat just at your feet. Dust from shoes tread covered the gun's usual polish, them in their rush to kill me thought nothing of it. In certain places, dents appeared to have been made, bending the shape and making it deformed.

Your hand plucked it off the ground in a slow manner, observing the damage done to it as you held it in both free, and chained hand.

"Woah... you look like crap-" You frowned, speaking to the gun nonchalantly, "Those stupid flippin mofo's- running all over you..."

Spilling out one last puff of indignant breath, you looked at your companion, of which was crouching patiently for you to start walking down the street.

If he could speak, you bet he'd ask you what the hold up was, or tell you the day's not getting any younger.

Perhaps he would simply prattle onto you about how fun it is to jump that high in the air, or maybe he'd walk over to you and console you on the great job you did loosing sight of your siblings.

Who knows.

You wish he could speak though.

The day's wouldn't be so long- and the infected wouldn't seem so hard to handle.

No matter, you knew things couldn't change.

This was the way things were now.

You just had to outlast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have fun trying to do that.


	3. Chapter 3: The Runner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit goes down

Your gun had felt awkward in your grip when you finally held it in your sweating palms. The price of death for those who crossed the front of it had once again placed a weight high above your head.

But with that weight came a confidence that you relied on to live. The confidence to keep taking steps towards your destination and end goal.

With your gun finally back in your rightful grasp, you used ten minutes of your time walking through the streets, making sure the coast was clear, and efficiently dealing with the strays that hung around the sun bathed cement roads.

Your companion seemed especially violent this day. Growling at anything that moved and threatening to tear it to shreds. Maybe teaching and using a kill command wasn't a smart thing to do with him, you had supposed, the snarling quickly becoming annoying, while the hands that were constantly padding in your direction could only make you think of a needy child.

As long as he didn't show aggression towards you, you could put up with his constant tension, but there was a fine line between patience, and your will to have it.

Every time he growled, everything in the immediate area became invested in your location, and that was very, very, bothersome.

Your whole walk to the store went like that. Turning a corner, him growling at any movement, everything turning around curiously, before sprinting at you because you weren't infected like everyone else.

You killed them with your gun faster then they could reach you, but it was still bothering to waste ammo when there was a chance to just quietly pass by.

When you and your hunter had finally reached the store, you didn't quite mind him growling- it rounded everyone up rather quickly, so you made quick work before scavenging the shelves. Rather unfortunately, the electricity was out, which meant the beef had gone bad due to the refrigerators not operating.

A disappointment was what this shop was.

The most you scavenged was several boxes of macaroni, chips and crackers, at least ten chocolate bars, and a can of peanuts. They didn't fit in your bag, so you took to cradling them in your arms. Made you take note of the fact that you should get your hunter companion a backpack, split the supplies between two bags all smart like.

And you did just that, wandering around until you found an aisle with backpacks. It was a struggle to get him to put his hands through the straps, but your efforts paid off when you stuffed your food into the bag and zipped it closed. While you were at it, you put in some other things, like the tarp you got from the roof, and a box of matches.

He wandered around, and you'd like to imagine he was proud of his new duty, but in your mind you knew he thought nothing of it. 'Just more straps to hinder my jumping' would be a more appropriate thing to say.

After that fiasco, you wandered around the store, double checking and rechecking things to make sure you got everything. Ended up stuffing an axe in your filled bag, and some fruit gushers down your companions. The final item you found near the back was a mud stained health pack, on the floor and looking trampled over. That went in the hunter's bag as well.

You ended up back at the start of the store, windows still intact, but door looking busted.

The bag of chips and the crackers that was there, you ate, quickly chewing, and staring out the window to check for infected. By some miracle, there were half empty water bottles left over from someone else's doing. You put all of them into your companions bag, four in total, on being completely full.

Moseying over to a bench that sat facing the window, you plopped down, still munching on the potato chips you'd found. You may have just woken up, but it felt nice to take a breather after traversing the streets for this general store.

It began while you were keeping lookout near the window.

Your hunter was more alert then usual. That much you had known.

He paced across the floor, sitting down before trying to walk into your knees. With a stretch of your leg, you pushed him away from you. Your frown was one of displeasure, the sudden clinginess in his actions was bothering.

Just a week before, he had tried everything to keep moving forward, keeping distance, and only occasionally wandering close enough. You had several close calls with his biting mouth and sharp claws during that time.

Now, he just wanted to follow, not pushing ahead of you, and often times tripping your feet.

Sighing, you rolled your eyes. You'd have to deal with it. Putting another handful of chips into your mouth, you glanced out the window. To your utter bewilderment- a person was wandering on the other side of the street.

Pulse quickening with excitement, you stood from your spot.

Another person! Cheers to that! Groups had better chances of survival, and God knows you want to survive.

The first movement you took towards the door was one of firm confidence. Two more steps forward, and you faltered, turning to look at your companion- who mind you, was hot on your tail.

Your momentum died right then and there, the hunter bumping into you as you stopped.

If you greeted a survivor, there's a chance they'd hurt him. A chance they'll injure your friend, kill your friend, kill you...

You weren't sure if you wanted to greet him.

Glancing out the window one last time, you huffed, walking to the door. With a sly nudge of your leg, you pushed your hunter out of sight from the glass.

Pushing the door open a sliver, you called out, staying rooted in your place at the door.

"Hey! Survivor!"

Immediately, the survivor looked at you, worry worn look torn across his face with the way he scanned your standing.

"Yeah! You!"

His staring stroked your nerves- nerves that were specifically in place to keep away strangers.

A look of relief finally passed him, and he took off into a sprint towards your location. As quick as you could, you flung your arms up in a halting motion, the mild panic in your face freezing the man in his tracks.

"Before you come closer- promise not to shoot!"

He nodded frantically, yelling an agreement back.

"It's a warning- as what your going to see is... very, very unusual."

He took to thought again, before just nodding and running over anyways. Holding the door open, and simultaneously standing in front of your hunter- for obvious reasons- he ran right past you, heavily breathing.

"Aargh- Thank God almighty there are still other survivors..." He wiped his brow of the sun and exercise induced sweat. The healthy glow in his cheeks only grounded you firmly with your own humanity. Stranger or not, he was human, and humans needed to stick together.

"I thought nearly the same till I saw you out there." Was the only thing you could manage, stepping a little farther in front of your hunter. Your companion, curious as always to your actions, grumbled up at you sniffing at the leg you had placed protectively before him.

His grumble was all that was needed for the man to realize it wasn't just two humans in a room. His eyesight straying farther and farther down before landing on the lethal and poised body of your friend.

The girly scream that came after was the first thing you needed to know that his reaction was one none too pleasant. The stranger panicked and dumbly attempted to back further away, which only spurred the hunter's more predatory thought system, a deep and threatening growl rising as he tried to shuffle around your legs. Showing him your afraid, makes him want to pursue. You know from experience.

Stretching your hands out in a stay calm manner, you spoke with a hushed tone, "Running makes him jump. As long as you don't make frantic footsteps, he'll stand still."

The man re-thought your words, pausing in his backward tread. He huffed and puffed with a fear only a lamb could produce, so with a quick shove of your foot to the chest of the hunter, you took steps toward the stranger.

He looked uneasy, but he straightened himself up, watching as you held your chained arm out for a shake.

"You chain him to you?" Was what he asked, blankly staring at your hand, before lifting his own and placing it in your grip.

"Yes, I do suppose that's weird of me- but it's more of a personal thing." Honestly you felt a little hurt he would speak like that. As if you were freaky. But you could see were he was coming from.

He caught on quickly to your expression, "Oh- shoot- sorry, that was insensitive of me."

You simply waved a hand with a wary smile, "It's fine." Doesn't quite change the fact that you think I'm weird.

The hunter beside you had stopped growling, instead watching rather adamantly as you conversed with someone other then him. The tilt in his head was rather puppy-like.

"So." He started, "How long have you been with... him."

"This marks the second day of the second week." Was your simple reply.

With a shaking frame, he watched as the hunter stepped closer, in an attempt to sniff at his leg. You tugged the chain, "I don't let him get close- and usually things just kinda work out."

He nodded- unsurely albeit, "Names Ted."

With a smile, and another reminding tug on the chain, you answered, "(Y/N)."

A silence passed over the party. Subtle wary glances from the stranger reached your hunter, while you yourself stared full on at Ted. A simple name- simple looking survivor.

Your paranoia made you question his worry- the flickering of his brown eyes. Even the hunch in his back rose questions.

Swallowing whole the perfidious thoughts that gagged a course in your mind, you let off a chuckle, "Have you been alone long?"

His eyes snapped to you, "Alone?" You nodded, and he shook his head, "Not for very long, but my group and I... it didn't go so good."

"...Same- mine are still out there though." Sniffing a solemn breath, you shuffled in place, touching the shoulder of your companion with your shin before recoiling and pushing him farther from your feet.

"What's his name?" Ted asked- a fake curiosity in his voice as he looked to the hunter.

Pursing your lips, your facial expression went from neutral to disturbed rather fast.

"Sorry, but he doesn't have one. At least not yet."

Ted tilted his head at you, "What- did you not know the guy?"

Flickering your eyes from the hunter to Ted, you refrained from using the more frustrated tone you would have liked to use, "No. I did know him. I just.... prefer... to keep the person he was, from the thing he is now."

He said nothing at the sound of your irritation, instead making a move to glance around the market. He whistled, "Everyone scrapped this place."

"Yeah." Was the only thing you said, moving towards the door to open and keep a move on.

"Woah- woah- where you going?" Ted questioned, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You shrugged it off, uncomfortable with the contact, "Survival out here means to keep moving. Just common sense."

By now your hunter appeared to grow restless from the talking, looking to and fro between both Ted and you, deciding rather languidly that he would prefer if it were silent. By that, he released a deadly sounding snarl from his throat, shutting Ted up as fast as he opened his mouth to speak.

You simply looked at Ted neutrally.

"...Moving it is then....." his voice nearly gave out in a squeak.

And moving it was. You never really asked if Ted wanted to come with you, and you supposed if he didn't want to come with you he would've just left, but following behind you was Ted. Your hunter followed nearly on your heel, it was annoying to be occasionally tripped, as was having to keep forcing him further away from you.

Your destination, was once again another place with supplies. A big general type of store this time, with hopefully more supplies then the last.

Your previous luck had run out though, as the more streets you made your way through, the more infected you encountered. Ted seemed efficient in staying alive, as were you, but the moment you turned a corner you knew your survival skills were heavily outclassed.

Fast as you peeked, you pulled your head back around the corner, pressing your back into the wall and gripping the hunter's chain so he didn't wander over and alert everything.

Ted copied your actions, looking to you as if to ask what was on the other side, but the finger you pressed against your own lips shut him up.

Gravely and sore growling came from that next street. The shuffling of feet beat endlessly against your ears. Amid all of the drones of common infected, and gargling, and puking, stood a bulging mass of muscles, veins popping outwards in the most unnatural of ways.

You didn't care to process what it was, you just know you didn't want to deal with it.

The disfigurement was more then enough to force your head back behind the wall, and the smell of so many uncleaned bodies only added to that fact.

Shifting in the opposite direction, you motioned Ted to keep moving. If we get away fast enough- we won't have to deal with it.

In silent agreement with your motions, he nodded his head and tiptoed away from the corner. You twisted the chain tighter against your already constricted arm.

Letting the chain jingle would only succeed in making this problem worse.

Slinking back the way you came was working perfectly for your rag-tag group. The huffing and puffing grew more and more distant the farther you slunk back, until finally, you safely made it two streets over.

Ted was panicked looking, hell, you were probably panicked too. The thing that was back there could crush you in a single smash of its arm, you and your hunter if it wanted.

"What was that thing...?" Was the first thing you muttered. True, you'd read on a wall about these types of things before, but it was blurry in you mind, and in all honesty you had only remembered the smoker and hunter.

"An infected- obviously." the bitterness in his tone clamped down violently to the air around you, making you flinch.

What was his problem.

Huffing, you brushed the comment off your shoulder, commenting on his sore sounding statement, "...Obviously."

Your hunter brushed your legs with his shoulder, snarling out sound you had never heard from him. Warily eyeing him, he glanced to you, lips pursed and nails clicking on the pavement below him. The group kept walking, working on traveling a route around the massive bulk of an infected that was huffing around on that street.

"So where are we heading." Ted mumbled, scratching his arm and walking more to the right to avoid the hunter's gaze.

"Ah- just another grocery store. Food's a priority." The hunter brushed your leg again, shoulder slightly stumbling you. Grunting, you shoved him farther away, tired of him constantly pushing into you.

"Right- right. Smart." Ted says rather mumbly again, more to himself than to you.

The urge to ask what was bothering him rose, but you shoved it back down your throat from where it came, instead watching your hunter lumber next to you.

Letting off a huff, you speed walked ahead in order to lead, ignoring the glance Ted gave you. Your sure you were just overreacting, but it kinda messed with your head when people made remarks like that. Twisted your gut up and made you wonder if they actually enjoyed your company or not.

The fact that he's a stranger made that suspicion boil deep within you. Why'd he come along. Why would he join you and your misfit hunter.

The rest of the walk past like this, both of you buried in your own thoughts and mind's. Not one word was exchanged as you fought and traveled. Ted, sternly keeping an eye on your hunter, and you charging forward like a leader, when really, you felt jumbled up inside.

The first time your stomach growled, you had ignored it. As you did the next couple times. But when the sun glistened at half mast above you, the decision was made to settle down for a break inside one of the offhand shoe stores.

Splitting up, and clearing the store, the both of you settled down on the registers counter, Ted hunched over far more then you were as he waited for you to do what was needed.

It irked you, that after just suddenly meeting you had to share your already dwindling resources. Even more so when Ted hadn't made the offer to share whatever it was that he had.

Making a small clicking sound with your mouth, you beckoned the hunter over. The backpack he was wearing too new looking to belong in this apocalypse.

With a quick zip, you opened the backpack, grabbing three granola bars from it. Throwing one to Ted, you turned back to the hunter, zipping the bag back up.

You didn't look at Ted as he ate, you simply continued on with what you were doing. Unwrapping a bar and shoving it in the hunter's direction. He sniffed it, before taking a nibble of it. You waited until he actually took a full bite to take the rest of the wrapper off and give it to him.

Focusing back on your own bar, you opened it, slowly munching into it as you watched your companion swallow part of the bar whole and start choking.

His fault really, for trying that stunt with everything he eats.

He spit it up, before eating it again. Animalistic, and disgusting, were the only things you could use to describe the sight.

Ted gagged next to you, "Gross. Why's he do that."

You huffed, "He's infected, get over it."

Taking another bite of your granola bar, you took a deep breath. Ted being here is making you rather stressed.

Finishing off your bar, you stood up, walking over to your companion- mind you he's finished eating his bar as well- and forced him upright. He stood with your pulling without resistance, towering over you and simply staring at you curiously.

You messed with the harness around his chest, making sure straps were tight and the clips wouldn't come off.

"Go catch some mice or something." You stated, patting his shoulder before sitting back down.

Your companion didn't take much thought on your words, wondering around restlessly and sniffing around the floor.

Ted looked to you, "Why do you speak to him?"

Putting on a bitter face, you shrugged, keeping your mouth shut.

"It's kinda weird. Talking to him. He's infected."

Ignoring his comment, you continued sitting there, "I think we should get a move on. Rest up a few, and then I'm leaving."

The tension between the two of you was almost tangible, thick and full no matter which direction you turned.

Ted stood up, "I can keep going- no worries."

Nodding to him, you began your trek to the exit, pulling on the chain once, before feeling your hunter bump into your knee. It made you feel more reassured with the situation. A dangerous familiar over the strange dangerous if you would.

Stepping out of the doorway, a small bell jingled from above, signaling your exit.

Ted stepped out a few paces behind you, shuffling with his messenger bag and whatever questionable supplies he had in it. You just huffed, and continued to walk.

Walking all the way to the food mart, only to have to turn around at the hulking mass of grunts and muscles really wasted your day. You really needed to be gathering supplies at every moment in order to replace the ones you used, and with things going like this, the odds of surviving dropped farther and farther.

The hunter nudged you, puffing a small breath through his teeth and continuing to saunter next to you. The urge to push him away was strong. So very strong.

But so was the urge to grab him violently into an embrace of stress worry and comfort. Your emotions were conflicted, very simply put, and the safest thing to do was go with the small medium between both of the almost hysterical feelings.

You let him walk next to you. Claw after padded claw he ambled ever beside you.

Flicking your eyes past your hunter, you glanced behind you to see Ted still there. His gaze was focused on predator beside you rather intently.

Scoffing, you turned back around and kept at it glancing at the street name.

Veramont Street.

If memory serves, you'd need to just keep walking down this street until you hit a corner, and then turn left. The market should be home free, but let's be real.

It's gonna take awhile to walk all the way down Veramont Street- by the time you get there, the sun will be getting dangerously close to setting.

Sighing, you kept trudging along, occasionally glancing to either Ted or the hunter.

The walk took just as long as you expected. The sun was beginning to find it's way ever so close to the horizon, and the grumble in your stomach that had previously only eaten a granola bar for each of its meals was begging for more, rumbling a consistent gurgle. Your companion was beginning to grow restless, pressing his jaw into you more often.

You knew what he was doing. Contemplating if you would be a good snack. He didn't get to eat a lot today, and the sniffing he was doing wasn't the most reassuring.

You turned your head to Ted and pointed at a building to the left of you, "Hey- it's getting late. We should settle for the night."

Ted nodded, following you as you veered off the street and over to the building. A quaint looking clothing store, which would hopefully be good shelter during the night.

Pushing the glass door open, the little bell at the top jingled.

"Let's split up." You said, turning to the right and wondering down the side. Ted took the left.

Again, your hunter pressed his jaw into your leg, following you with his chain dragging on the polished wood floors.

You tried your best to ignore it, wandering and glancing down the aisle's to see if any infected were there. The pressing became more incessant the more you ignored it, to the point that when you moved he would step on your heel and trip you.

When you felt his mouth begin to open, you had had enough, whipping around, and pushing him back with your leg.

He stared, the shadow over his face becoming darker and darker with the sun fading out over the horizon. The chill you felt when he lowly growled at you was a sharp one- prickling your neck hair with fear.

You needed to feed your companion, and fast.

First- you needed to clear the store though.

Making your way down the rest of the aisles at a faster pace, you confirmed that there wasn't anything in the room, hunter on your heel as before.

Without farther ado, you stopped and turned to your companion, reaching for his backpack and taking out another granola bar. It didn't matter that it was the last one- all that mattered was that your boi got fed before you got bit.

Unwrapping the bar, you tossed it to him, watching as he snatched it with his claws. A few sniffs, and it was down his gullet. Surprisingly he chewed it this time, swallowing with no problem before looking to you with a tilt.

"Sorry- no more granola bars boy." He walked closer, nuzzling your leg as he tread past you. If you didn't know any better- you'd say it was him thanking you, but you knew that he wasn't capable of those types of thoughts.

Rolling your eyes with a sudden bitterness, you tugged the chain and walked towards Ted's side of the store. You could hear him clanging around, footsteps rather heavy.

Turning the corner, you leaned against the wall and waited for Ted to walk up to you.

"It's clear on my side." You said, Ted nodding his head in confirmation.

"Same." Was all he said back, sighing as he stood in front of you, "What do we do now?"

You shrugged, almost jumping when your hunter leaned the side of his head on your leg, "Sleep. Hopefully make it through the night."

Ted nodded, "I'll keep lookout first."

"We should barricade the doors before anything though. I'll get the back door."

Without much more to say, the both of you split up again, doing your respective doors with anything you could find.

When you finally settled down for the night- laying down next to the counter and Ted standing near the moonlit window, you felt more tired then usual. The growling in your stomach had yet to cease- but you needed to ration things. The two granola bars you'd eaten earlier today would have to do.

Your hunter sat at your feet, looming over you with a blank stare. All things considered, you wished he wouldn't do that. It gave you a spook that you would rather not have.

Brushing it off, you pulled your tarp closer to yourself and rubbed your head farther onto your backpack. It was a sucky substitute for a pillow.

Falling asleep was easier then you thought it'd be.

______________

A small tugging feeling was what awoke you not on your clothes, and not your legs or arms, but your hair.

Something was tugging at your hair- and it bothered you. You didn't like whatever was touching your head and waking your body up from its sleep.

Cracking an eye open, something was looming over you- one of its hands holding your head up, while the other tugged at what was below you. The strands of your greasy hair tickled your face with the movement.

Chills? Fear? You weren't sure what it was, but the shadowed face the figure above you had made you want to run- run and never look back. Adrenaline began to work it's way through your body- you struggled to remain as though you were asleep.

Eyes now wide, you gazed at it, blurry and sleep filled vision becoming more and more focused until you finally realized what the figure actually was.

Ted. That's who it was.

Ted was trying to take your backpack.

That scoundrel-

Jerking forward with the only thing you could have thought to do- your head hit him with all the force of your anger behind it.

He stumbled backwards, hand releasing the backpack he was trying to steal.

You knew you shouldn't have trusted that cheat. You knew that there was something fishy about him. And you fucking knew that you should've steered clear of people.

Getting up as fast you could- tarp being tossed to the side- you reared your fist back for a punch, chained arm snapping forward and slamming into his jaw.

You'll admit, it hurt your knuckles to hit him that hard- but you bet he hurt more then you after being hit with the cold metal chain around your hand.

Recovering from your punch, Ted gave his own, haphazardly pummeling your shoulder.

Not backing down to his strike, you shoved him into the counter, reeling your arm back and releasing for another punch. His back made a popping noise when it hit the edge.

Your hunter was watching the both of you throw punches intensely. Another hard shove, his head would flick to watch. A punch from one to another, he focused on the one who stumbled.

Like waving a string in front of a cat, he prowled closer to the action, growling with every push and shove and yanking of hair.

You gave a huge push to Ted, watching blearily as he fell backwards to the tiled floor. His head hit the ground, with a harsh thud.

Blood ran from where he had punched you in the nose just a few seconds ago, your thumb absentmindedly wiping it off as you watched from above him.

Ted looked scared. Downright cowardly- and for once- you felt like you were the predator.

Waiting above him, staring down with a gaze so cold and hard- it was a question as to if you ever truly felt anything else.

A ghost of a feeling brushed past your leg as the hunter crawled next to you.

The aggressive growling from beside you didn't do much to faze you, neither did the movement of the chain as your hunter grew closer and closer to the cowering lamb on the floor.

Your chin tilted upward and eyes wide, smeared blood on your lips and thumb- you weren't sure which scared him more. The hunter, or your intimidating stance.

Ted scrambled to his feet, stumbling to get up and run to the barricaded door.

Too late.

Too slow.

Too weakly.

You squinted, feeling the chain tighten as a deathly scream rang out through the store.

The grotesque squelch of blood and screaming was all you could process- and you didn't bother to stop the action that was set into course. The moment your mind pieced things together- you didn't care.

Chain jingling with each long stride and tear of his claws, you stood, stock staring and faceless breathing as a body was ripped strip by strip in front of you. The rib cage was the first bone to collapse.

Never again. You thought.

No more grouping with survivors-

It was just your boy, and you.

The blood was making you sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. That happened.


	4. Chapter 4: The Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yall get rained on

Any way you looked at it, the mess on the floor held your stare. Every which way you tried to scrape and pry your eyesight from it- you couldn't.

Bones and blood, gore splattered across the ground and across the open shelves. The images of your former friend, now hunter, tearing at the thief was ingrained in your mind- picture after picture of nothing but terror and hunger.

Yeah, you could have stopped him.

All you had to do was give him a tug on his chain- force him backwards.

But you didn't.

You watched.

The guilt gnawed on your head the same way Ted's screams rang in your ears.

That small part of yourself felt like he deserved it- he had tried to steal from you! He knew what was coming for trying that!

But the more you reasoned, the more you thought on the fact that he was still a human. Killing infected is one thing, but killing something that you can still reason with, and joke with... that's too far off your surprisingly still white moral scale.

Stock still on the ground, you spent the rest of the night. Even when a few strays that were drawn from the screaming wiggled their way through the window. No move did you make to grab your gun and kill them, but hey- at least you had your guard dog!

He uh- he killed the strays too.

Even though he wasn't hungry.

He left their bodies strewn on the floor, shreds of them spread around and mixing with a half eaten Ted.

What if he came for you next. Was one of your many depressing and cynical thoughts.

With the lack of focus you had, you simply sat there as the hunter trotted back to you, rubbing his chin onto your shoulder and effectively smearing blood all over your arm. His throat rumbled with a familiar growl- the one that was higher pitched, and almost akin to a jovial and happy sound.

He couldn't be happy.

He was infected.

It wasn't until morning began to come in through the window that you finally stood up, packing the tarp back into the hunter's bag and wobbling on your feet. Vaguely, you recognized the squelch of your boots in the blood.

You glanced it over, before a sick feeling passed you and you emptied your stomach on the floor. Nothing but acid- your granola bar didn't last long. Several minutes of simply staring at your own puke, and you finally flicked your gaze away.

Yes, Ted's body was blocking the exit.

You'd have to inch your way around it. If you could.

You really didn't want to though-

Just looking at it made you sick.

Taking the first uneasy steps forward, you began walking toward the exit, carefully stepping around your own puke, before stopping just in front of the body.

You couldn't take your eyes off of it, glued to the claw marks that ran crisscross along the tatters of his shirt and torso.

One deep breath in, and one deep exhale out, your breathing came out in heavy sighs. Long, and slow, with a hard heave of your chest.

Surely, the feet that were moving were yours. Surely, the falter in them was not.

One last puff of air through your nose, and you pushed forward, steeling yourself against the smell of decay and blood.

The hunter's slow pace beside you offset the eeriness, the pad's of his hands sounding almost gentle as you walked past the body, and neared the exit. In a way, you supposed it was calming. A gentle lull of footfall. The grumble he let out was even softer, as if feeling the tense shake of your hand against his chain.

You hoped you weren't walking yourself down a path of dependency. Dependent on the calmness he brought with him, despite the havoc he wreaks with every fleshy throw of his crimson covered claws.

But against your will, you felt yourself resign to whatever fate you made for yourself. Dependent on knowing that your friend, infected and forgotten within the depths of the hunter's mind, was the only thing keeping you from loosing yourself in this whirlwind of an apocalypse.

Stopping once you reached the window, you stood silently. As much as you would have liked to ignore daily hygiene, you needed to clean out your hunters wounds, else they get an infection. Coincidental considering he's infected.

Turning ruffly to the hunter, you knelt down and pushed his hood back.

His green eyes were already looking at you before you pulled his hood back. The murky depths felt too intelligent. Too inquisitive.

Pulling your backpack down, you began to rummage for the peroxide, pulling out a rag while you were at it.

He watched complacently, eyes half lidded as he blankly looked to you.

God, you wished he would stop staring.

Bringing the dowsed rag up, you began cleaning out the gouges under his eyes. He flinched, hissing out a garbled growl of pain. His fingers tense, but he doesn't resist your touch.

Silently, you finish cleaning, taking one more moment to look at his face. Greasy hair still looking the slightest bits fluffy, and face emotionless.

"Jeeze..." you sighed, "You need a shower."

Hypocritical, as you both needed one. Bringing a hand up, you ran a quick swipe through his locks, observing his expression.

His eyes squinted as you did that, lips giving a small twitch just as you touched his scalp.

You didn't want to deal with this, not this early, so with a quick motion, you flipped his hood back on, before standing up from your crouched position.

Legs aching, you stood for a moment to gather yourself, looking to the door and taking a few uneasy steps toward it.

So, with no sleep, an empty stomach, and the putrid burn of acid in your throat, you started off, tugging with half the enthusiasm you could have had.

The small bell at the door jingled as you left, the click of your hunters claws following from behind you.

You felt claustrophobic, in a sense. A strange mix between the guilt closing in around you, and the hunter from behind making you wish you could go back to your old life, in your old room, and in your old blankets.

Your stomach grumbled sorely, yet you didn't stop for food. With the images still in your mind, you'd probably just puke again.

Walking, walking, more walking- a drift of thoughts passing you by. You faintly remembered thinking you were all but immune to the sight of blood now, but apparently not when its someone you had become acquainted with.

The walk passed in a dull haze of your own remorse.

When you finally reached the right street, you took a left turn, looking down the street and seeing a billboard next to a store.

'ENDLESS DISCOUNTS!!' Was as far as you read before glancing around the store from a distance for infected. You could have been more careful in checking, but you didn't even bother to glance into the alleys.

Padding to the door, you pushed it open, door squeaking and bell jingling. Food- you needed it, but did you really need it right now? Did you really need to keep up the thin and wet sheet that kept you alive?

The familiar grumble of your friend sounded, claws ticking gently as he lumbered in through the door you had held open and been staring at for the past few minutes.

Right.

Ahem.

Food, that's what your aiming for.

Huffing a breath, you walked in, feeling the customary and gentle brush of his shoulder against your leg.

At least some things will never change. Even if they weren't as reassuring as you currently needed them to be.

God you wished your siblings were still with you. Anything to help you cling to your humanity.

Pondering existence was a dangerous thing to do, but you continued to wander and think on such things. The aisles of the store felt long as you drifted them, boots clunking with your apathy.

You didn't flinch when an infected cried out, standing up and running towards you. He was pounced on, dug into quickly, and killed.

Turning the other way, you heard your companion follow after you, the sounds of his steps a white noise as always. Several more cried out, darting towards you. They fell as did the others.

In spite of everything, you felt a twisted sense of safety. The infected were too dumb to reason that running triggers jumping. They couldn't reach you.

By the time you got around to clearing out the store, morning was over, and the afternoon sun was held high above the city. You sat in the back of the store, backpacks filled with the new abundance of food. It'd last you a good week, which should have been comforting, but again, you were wallowing in your own self pity. 

With nothing else to do, you pulled out a bag of skittles- the ones you had found near the cash register- and began eating.

A bad breakfast for a bad state of mind, though it did ease your pain a slight bit. Slight.

Your hunter sat crouched an inch away from your shoes, staring at you intently. The blank look portrayed by his mouth was ominous as always. The shadow and the blood from previous kills all but sent a shiver down your spine.

You needed to clean his wounds- as to not let them get infected- but sitting there, a hand full of skittles in your mouth, and a hand full of skittles in your hand, you didn't quite mind procrastinating.

In your own annoyance of his blatant staring, you flicked a skittle at him, watching as it hit his hood before falling to the floor.

A curious one he was, stooping his head down to sniff at the candy you tossed.

As you expected, he licked it off the floor, crunching on it for a few seconds before swallowing. Honestly, you were expecting a bit more of a reaction from him. Against all odds you supposed that maybe sugar would make him do anything other then stare and growl.

Unfortunately, he did just that, staring, growling, before placing a claw closer to you.

A different growl from the usual ones. Strange, long and, drawn out.

Deep? You supposed, but all of his growls at their base were deeply toned, so you couldn't find that to be the proper way to describe it.

An in between of high and low growls, silky- one that almost implored you to take a gamble and so much as twitch your fingers.

You choked on your spit when you drew its resemblances to that of a whine.

Another hand closer to you, and at this point he was beginning to hover over your legs, tips of shoes meeting, and hands either side of your knee. He tilted his head to look at his chain, before flicking his head back to observe your face.

Was he expecting you to push him away by then? Because the more he stepped, the more you began to want to shove him. You felt uncomfortable to have him almost on top of you like this, even if he held his own weight up.

Better yet- you should. Who knows when he'll target your throat.

Reeling, you shoved his shoulders, forcing him back to his spot at the edge of your shoes.

His lips curled into a frown, one that you found surprising to be there.

"Oh what- are you mad now?" Your eyebrows furrowed deeply, and you couldn't stop the snarled tone that came out, "Deciding on whether or not I'm lunch? Because that's real shallow of you."

The next look he made had you questioning if you really were hallucinating.

A snide look stretched his frown farther, canines becoming visible as he opened and closed his mouth with a sharp click. If someone didn't know any better, it was almost akin to a mute, two year old child trying to argue that bedtime wasn't meant to be at seven.

The annoyance he seemed to be trying to convey being shocking considering he's... infected.

You openly gaped at him, staring as he finally shut his mouth and simply frowned at you.

That freaking monotone hunter- who suddenly got sassy- just sassed you. Sassed you.

By clicking his teeth. Teeth.

Huffing, you did the same as he did, clicking your teeth and making sure it was audible.

His frown lessened a smidge after you did so, claw tapping the floor several times.

Being the being of resistance he was, he made his way back to you, this time taking heed of your personal space, and instead crouching next to your hip instead of over it.

You reluctantly let him keep sitting there, side eyeing him for the longest time before shrugging off his observing.

Down the hatch goes another hand full of skittles, and again, you heard that grumbling coming from him. The weird low pitched whine from before.

You ignored it, waiting until he stopped to stuff another hand of sugar down your gullet.

He whined as you did so, and by now you could guess why.

Flicking another skittle at him, your eyes followed him as he scurried around to catch the round candy.

The bags under your eyes felt dense, any wiping and rubbing you did failing to keep them from dragging your face downward. Did you think that if time went back, things would be different?

Would you have held the chain back?

The saliva in your mouth made you gulp, eyes squinting with your frown and emotions spiking. You felt like an asshole- a prick who didn't care about what happened to other people.

And you didn't care.

That's what scared you.

Clenching your teeth, you drug the palm of your hand down your face for the umpteenth time, letting out a groan of displeasure. Screw feelings. Skittles is life.

Shoving another hand of skittles in your mouth, you chewed, glancing up when your hunter growled before flicking another candy at him.

By the time you finished the bag of skittles, it had to be at least twelve o' clock, but with all the rain clouds out, you couldn't be sure.

The gloomy overcast seemed to only accent your bad mood.

Shuffling around to get more comfortable on the floor, you glanced over at the corpses laying ever so limply, narrowing in on what used to be Ted.

Your hunter tried to paw at the empty bag in your hand, clearly begging for more sugar, so you tossed the plastic at him, watching him rip the bag up. His disappointment was silent and he stared at the ripped shreds with a frown.

Your legs were beginning to feel achy from sitting on the ground for this long. The numb feeling the both of them felt was a surefire promise that they fell asleep.

Huffing, you stood up, almost stumbling when you couldn't feel if they were stretched or not.

Standing there for a moment, you felt your hunter's chain wiggle as he silently crawled around.

"Let's get a move on." You spoke, ready, and feeling much more confident now that you've had time to ponder on everything that's happened.

A few quick and consecutive steps forward, and you were met with resistance. The chain tightened around your hand, and the hunter remained firmly where he sat.

Stopping, you looked to him, squinting your eyes, "Come on. We need to keep moving." Your voice came out grittier then expected.

Still, he sat, lips in a firm frown of displeasure.

Rolling your head and eyes, you huffed, giving the chain a tug. He moved an inch or so, but on his haunches he remained.

"Ugggghh- come on! We need to-" you froze mid sentence.

Not because you had wanted to.

A large rumbling could be heard in the distant street, huffing and puffing growing closer to the building you were in.

The image of distorted muscles and protruding veins came back and you knew what it was. That tank of an infected that was blocking your way the day before. Of course it would still be in the area, why wouldn't it be?

Stilling your breath, you dropped down to the floor as quietly as you could.

The chain loosened as the hunter came closer to you, acknowledging the fact that you now knew the dangers of what is tromping down the street.

Wriggling your way over to the shelves, you hid your body from window viewing, still pressed closely to the floor.

The hunter crawled with you, stopping next to you.

He looked anything but hesitant, placing a certain claw on your shoulder.

You swatted him when he did so, and in reply, he clicked his teeth together with a frown. Ignoring your swat, he placed a hand on the other side of your torso, effectively hovering over you.

You clenched your teeth in your own frown, grabbing his arm and attempting to move him off of you with an almost violent pull.

He was firm in his resolve though, frowning as you tried to move him.

You didn't like this. Not with the way he looked at you.

Your own weakness and vulnerability left you exposed far too wide then you would have liked, so you struggled.

He in return dropped his body closer, resting on his elbows as he stared at you. His heat brushed your body in warmth, an almost boiling feeling bubbling up inside of you.

With a snarl, you began to pull yourself away, to move your arms in some form of defiance.

He rested his ear on your chest, listening to your heart beat. It was sporadic, for the most part, fear being a main influence. The rumble he let out shook you, vibrations from his chest traveling into your own.

This growl was the most quiet one you had ever heard come from him. Gentle and soothing, and primarily consisting of pure vibrations. What noise did escape him sounded as though a low hum.

However fear based and nerve wracking it should have been for the lethal body of a poised killer pressed so close to you, nailing you to the floor in a vague yet small promise of protection, it wasn't. It should have been terrifying. Should have been scarier then it actually was.

You felt scared, yes, indubitably so, but the comfort you found in simple touch alone was much more overpowering than any other emotion.

You felt like a baby in short terms, overwhelming fear and comfort.

You writhed beneath him, shoving, pushing, anything to get him off you. His heavy and sleek body made for a good paper weight, only flinching moderately as you tried to shake him off.

He pushed his nose along your neck, and you could only meekly take a claustrophobic and sharp intake of air. Your hands slammed against his face, pushing the bridge of his nose away from you. He pushed back, breath just barely ghosting your skin.

Your vulnerability all but made him that much more intimidating. His stare, barely visible beneath his hood, was hard pressed and shadowed, to the extent that you weren't sure if he wanted to kill you more then the hulking being outside.

Dark eyes spelled out a bad omen, you decided.

The rumbling drew closer from outside, strangled panting and huffing coming from the oversized behemoth.

You could picture the infected's horrific body.

All struggling stopped the moment it stood by your building. You drew still. Your hunter drew silent. The snorting huff remained.

And it passed. Your sigh of relief was quiet, and the hands that had grabbed onto the hunters arms in struggle released themselves, the indents of where they had been still left on his hoodie's sleeves.

You huffed, glowering from below him, before giving him a final shove, to which he finally conceded, backing off of your body almost reluctantly.

You sat up, red busying itself on your cheeks out of the sheer proximity you had shared with him. God, you wanted to choke him. Something to show you didn't agree with what he did.

Your skin still felt his breath, his touch. The nerves beneath them tingled with the sensation, dare I say it, basked in it.

Remaining impassive, despite the urge to yell, you stood. Making your way towards the window, you peered out of it, looking to see if the huge infected was gone. He had thankfully already turned onto a different street.

Without a second thought, you made your way out, treading in the opposite direction of the huffing and puffing.

Once you were far enough away, you regained your slower pace of meander.

The day was still overcast, clouds blistering the usual blue and casting a shadow on the city.

You were sure it would rain.

Every footstep was another second, another minute was another sigh, the swirling mass of air and water above you sent a warning chill breathlessly scuttling down your spine.

The time droned on as you walked, an ever present buzz, as silent and still as it was since birth. To where you were walking, you did not know. But in a vague sense, someplace different from here.

The night would be cold, you could feel the temperatures sinking into your bones.

It wasn't until the first platter of rain touched your nose that you knew you needed shelter. You had looked into the distance, spotting an office building, alongside a postal office. Office buildings were huge, and with space comes infected, so you made the proper choice of the postal bank.

The rain picked up quicker then expected though, the pellets reaching you much faster than you could walk your way there.

Speed walking was the best you could do, trudging through it even with the wind blowing the heat off of you. Your short sleeve shirt did nothing to keep the cold from settling into your skin.

With a huff, and puff, and a ram of your shoulder, the doors to the postal bank slammed open, infected immediately zoning in on your human form.

The claws that flew through them didn't faze you this time. You marched forward with a clear focus, blood falling around you as you brushed past the chaos.

Your wrist twisted, pulling the chain tighter, closer. He couldn't leave you.

He was next to you again, yet you kept walking. Back, farther and farther into the room. A door was in front of you, and just as the last, you simply shoved it open.

Pausing, you took in a deep breath. The hunter was beside you. The chain was beside you. All was fine.

You closed the door.

All was fine.

Wet, yet fine.

Something still felt off though.

Scared, was it? You couldn't have been. You didn't feel as if.

Walking down that street felt like a minor inconvenience, yet when it first started it was a life or death option that many were forced to take.

So many things that were, just weren't anymore.

Scared? Why would you be with the set of claws beside you so eager to tear something apart.

Frightened? Why would you be when the set of fangs beside you only dared to bite you when they needed fed.

This past course of days were strange and so, so, very difficult for you to wrap your head around.

The sudden clinginess, the snarling, the variance in his moods and expressions.

Just a week ago, the moment he had the chance, however slight and small it was, he would have torn you to bits the way he had done to Ted.

The still healing marks from when he did manage to pin you, tear at you with his claws, ached at the thought.

The feral way he acted then, lips always drawn with a deep set snarl and growl, was nothing compared to now.

He didn't eat all that much the first week either. Simply growled and snarled at you and the few people of your group you still had left. 

Throwing your hands into your hair, you walked yourself into a corner and hard pressed your head to the wall.

A week ago, turning your back like this spelled death.

God! Everything a week ago was flipped onto its side.

Slowly, albeit, but never as suddenly as it was after Ted showed up.

The only thing you noticed during the slow growth was that he almost understood the concept of a leash, barely grasped that your shooing motions meant that he best back up before he gets whacked with the but of your gun, and that dropping the gun means to kill.

The sudden progression gave you whiplash.

He walked calmly, rather then tugging wrathfully at the end of the chain, followed you like a guidance dog would, repeatedly displayed emotions, and consistently found ways to wiggle inches closer to you, even if by 'wiggle' it meant to pin you to the ground and stare into your soul.

Even now, with his maw pressed into your leg, mouth closed, and blank face staring, he resembled more of a dog then that of a crazed infected.

He lowly rumbled as you side glanced to him, and all at once you felt cold from the rain.

His clothes were soaked as well, water limply dripping onto the tiled ground.

You bet he was cold too.

Sighing and dropping down to his level with a swivel and bend of your knees, you pressed a hand to the top of his hooded head.

Definitely wet.

Not like you could change out of clothes like this in an apocalypse.

It raised an important question in your mind.

Could infected get sick?

You didn't want to take chances.

Reaching into his backpack, you heaved to pull out the tightly packed tarp. Unfolding it with a few shakes, you threw it around him, pulling it taunt once you had the other side in your grip.

It wasn't much, but you hoped it did something to help.

Nestling into the corner as much as you could, you wrapped your wet arms around your legs and simply listened to the steady beat of rain.

The hunter seemed confused as to why you wrapped the tarp around him, tilting his head at you before glancing to the tarp. He chuffed, before giving a shake to his body and letting the tarp fall off.

Mmmm...

No.

You weren't pleased with this.

Stretching out a hand, you pulled the tarp back up, pulling the two corners around his shoulder and together once again. To make a point with a newer found knowledge that clicking teeth showed annoyance, you snapped your mouth together to make a click, thinning your lips.

His own lips thinned at seeing you do this, and he proceeded to shake it off.

Repeating the process, you snapped your teeth at him again, this time he retrained himself, clicking his own teeth and turning his head to look at the desk a few feet away.

Satisfied, you went back to leaning your head against the wall.

If the hunter's new personality was as passive as this, you didn't really mind having him act like a clingy two year old.

One last sigh.

You hoped the rain would pass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, so this chapters a bit shorter then usual. That's because most of this is just the reader assessing all of the things that have happened, and settling her mind in a happy medium.
> 
> As I can't really personally put your personalities into this, I made the reader more of a middle type of person. Calmer, less fight induced, but if she does have anything out of the middle, its an extreme. sooo, yeah.
> 
> She needed a day to process everything and re calm herself, lol.


	5. Chapter 4: The Helicopter

It had surprised you that you had fallen asleep. No memory's of drifting between the thin line of conscious thought and slumber were present. Only the simple yet sudden black of your eyelids signifying your sudden loss of time.

Just as you had fallen asleep, you had awoke at an unknown hour, one that you danced slowly into between both unconscious and alert fields.

Awake, groggy, and overall a mess of bedhead and sleepers. You felt disgusting from the lack of showers and general grit that covered you. Blood had dried onto your face from previous kills, hunter or not, and began to crust off in flaky bits. If money was still relevant, you would be rich for all the times you've pondered your own grime.

Aside from that, falling asleep in a corner did nothing to help your slowly worsening posture, the muscles in your neck aching with the tightness of their position.

Muscles stretching outwards as you raised your arms in a yawn, you kept your eyes closed despite the worsening feeling of sleeping so curled in on yourself.

Despite being in such an awkward position, you had felt surprisingly comfortable, in whatever strange and weird way. One backpack beside you, one mass of clothes on the other, it almost felt like sitting among two pillows.

"I don't have a pile of clothes..." your voice was raspy to even your own ears.

Cracking the first bleary eye open, your eyes landed on a familiar looking hoodie in the darkness of the room. However ill-lit the office was, it was still easy to tell where he was located. Beside you. Nestled into your side with his nose pressed firmly into your rib cage. To accommodate his intrusion, your arm was pushed straight out by his broad shoulders, jutting in an awkward and sore position..

Purely based on habit, you flinched- as your mind had finally assessed the room- and raised your hands with the need to shove, freezing when a more rational side said to withhold such acts.

As such, your fingers twitched with the want and need to shove him.

He was a clingy two year old. You needed to remember that.

Poised and sleek, piercing claws and muscle strength to rip you apart- yet a two year old.

Shoving him would only make him pouty, yet simply letting him meander and tread over you let him push boundaries you would rather him not push. It was better if he remained passive.

A hard decision.

One you didn't rightly need to make.

The hunter let out a sleepy yawn, teeth glistening as his lips pulled up. A quick snap of his jaw, and he closed his mouth and swallowed, placing his chin onto your hip bone.

Well, he was certainly nestled in.

Too much for comfort.

Standing up and letting him drop, you watched as he shook the sleep off of himself with a low growl before looking up to you. His frown grew just a little bit lighter, and the happier chirp of a rumble sounded in his chest.

You hated to admit it, but it was slightly adorable. If only for the fact that he seemed happy to see you.

Wishful thinking.

You needed to check his wounds.

With gentle movements, you kneeled back down and slipped your hands softly along the sides of his face. The rough material of his hood scratched your arms as you pushed it back, and the fabric hit his back with a quiet poof of air.

In an almost tender stroking motion, you moved your thumb, feeling the cuts and scabbing tissue that lined his otherwise soft face. He leaned into your touch, strong shoulder blades shifting as he moved an arm forward.

The further back you pushed your arms, the further forward he seemed to lean, until his hair was threaded through your fingers snugly and his face was tilted to look attentively at you from in front of your stomach. The steady stream of rumbling from his chest vibrated the palms of your hands in an almost ticklish manner.

Sucking in a deep breath, you watched him blink, his green eyes narrowing in on you the longer you indulged him.

His eyes still looked so dull.

In an almost predatorial way, his mouth parted, sharp teeth faintly showing in the darkness of the room. Next his muscles began to tense in a pounce motion, and the rumbling grew harsher.

It was then you decided to stop this situation from escalating.

Hands flickering to his hood, you pulled it back on with a harsh tug, throwing any pouncing plans he may have had out the window.

Not today.

Standing up, you decided that looking at the surroundings was much more preferable to watching him, heated gaze and lean body all.

The important thing was that his wounds looked as though they could be left alone now. The scabs forming seemed sturdy enough to protect his skin. Which in turn, meant that you could focus more on surroundings then on injuries.

The small office room was messy, papers scattered to and fro. The occasional blood splatter remained, but overall it was in decent condition. No extra dead bodies were there since the last time you observed the room, an added bonus really.

Reaching down for your backpack, you slung it onto your back with little care, before shifting your hands over the chains and slowly and tightly winding it back into its rightful place.

Running a quick hand through your hair, you sighed, sagging your shoulders and brushing past a particularly large pile of papers.

It was so dark, and you were still so tired. In all honesty, you wished to return to your slumber. Close your eyes and only open them when keeping them shut was no longer an option. But alas, survival was about moving forward.

The gentle lull of the hunters chain followed after you as you began to head towards the exit, his claws ticking and sneakers shuffling with a dull plod. Swiftly pulling the door open, you lumbered through it, holding it open for the hunter and letting it shut behind his feet.

This day, you had no destination in mind. The only thing pushing you forward was the dull drive of knowledge that one day you would need more to eat, and thus, your feet kept moving. Never lingering in an area too long, else things turn sour.

Help seemed like something you would want. Scratch that, help was something you needed. Military, government- anything that could give you a sense of direction, or safety.

You vaguely thought of your hunter, before shaking your head bitterly.

He would tear you apart if given the chance.

But would he really?

You didn't really want to have these types of existential questions bothering you, especially when you were doing something as simple as twisting a door nob.

Cracking the door open, you peered into the lobby with a suspicious eye, the front windows canvassing the night's streets perfectly.

No movement.

No sound.

Just the ticking of your fingers against the door, and the cheery jingling of chains.

"Nice." You mumbled, happy it was like that, but still rather bleary from sleep.

The hunter beside you was anything but sleepy. The moment he shook himself and yawned, was the moment he was awake. Always alert to his surroundings, scanning and re-scanning.

Walking over to the counter, you leaned against it, beckoning the hunter over.

Grabbing him by the shoulders, and forcing him to stand up straight, you watched as he stood straight up.

His legs were beginning to look different. More angled, dare I say, animalistic. His shoes were almost bursting, and the duct tape along his legs looked too tight for the way his legs were developing.

It's not a pleasant sight. Disturbing and inhuman like in quality.

Maybe it was the lighting? Or- hopefully it was the lighting that made his shape take on such a predatorial feel.

He was getting taller, you noticed. That had to be what was making you so intimidated. He was taller then his human counterpart now. Easier to separate the two, good.

What really made you think, was why it was him. You weren't sure if all infected were mutating like this, but to see it on him specifically made it all the more impactful. All other hunters you had seen, however few, were so much more human-like then he was.

Pulling yourself from the gaze you had on his legs, your eyes traveled upwards to his chest, faux fabric laden over it in a harness, and clips connecting the chains to it droopy.

Putting your fingers under the harness, you gave a tug, pulling him forward to test how loose it was. Still seemed pretty in tack, but just to be sure, you tightened it anyway, before looking back to the clips.

A few tugs, a check to see if the fabric around the clips was ripping, and you decided he was good to go, patting his shoulder and letting him drop back to the ground, where he thankfully, didn't have the height to make you feel intimidated.

Thankfully.

Rather then make your way out the door, you decided to stay there for a bit. Plan a route instead of blindly running through the streets.

Settling on the floor, you slid your backpack off your shoulder, setting it in front of you. Finding your map was easy, still along the side of the bag. The hard part was to find where you were. After traveling so suddenly, and so sporadically, you weren't sure you knew where actually ended up.

Maybe a landmark would help.

Not that this lighting was helping. It was still so dark out, perhaps an hour away from the first morning sunbeams.

Getting up, you shuffled to the window, gazing out of it to look around the dimly lit city street.

First thing to catch your eyes was the giant building, broad lettering placed aside its top most windows.

'Mercy Hospital.'

That's a landmark for sure.

Far away from you, yes, but something to use to find yourself.

It was a straight path forwards to the towering building. A long stripe of pavement was laid before you, worth several miles, with crashed trucks and stray cars every step of the way.

As much as it was tempting, you would never go there.

Before things fell, everyone went there. Hordes of people hoping to be cured by whatever illness had burdened them, grouped into rooms before turning- Hordes would be in that building, masses of infected people trapped within it's walls.

Going there would be suicide.

"Cheh. Not that anywhere else is much better." Your chagrined scoff made the hunter tilt his head.

Sighing, you looked back to the map, making a rough estimate as to where you were.

Nothing that important was close by. Mainly just work buildings or housing.

The walk back to the market area of buildings was quite a ways away.

Perhaps... a later time. One when it's not so dark.

Letting out a long breath, you dropped yourself to the floor right then and there, pressing your back to the wall. The window above you was eery, but so was the questionably grubby floor, so you had nothing to complain about.

Instead of trying to sleep on your back this time, you dropped onto your side, face looking out and seeing your hunter patiently watching you. Perhaps he's letting you settle first? Being the gentlemen, before tromping over and taking his own spot? A spot he isn't supposed to have, of course.

For good measure, you squinted your eyes at him, knowing he couldn't hear what was going on in your mind, yet doing it anyways.

His nose flared with the deep breathe he took in, lips almost twitching upwards in a small moment of peacefulness.

But then the whirring started. The deep grumbling of an engine, loud, rhythmic, and making a chopping noise.

Louder and louder it got, light shining momentarily through the window above you in a brief flash of an almost blinding glow. The almost angered growl that ripped from the hunter was blocked out by the engine.

The strange sound of a megaphone, something, anything that could've made their voice louder then the chopping and horrendously loud noise of the engine, rung out of the cities brick and dense walls, "For anyone who can hear this," they rushed a quick breath of air, "Proceed to Mercy Hospital for evacuation! I repeat, proceed to Mercy Hospital for evacuation!"

Those words were heaven sent. Packaged neatly, tightly, delicately tied together, and placed directly into your ears for your hearing pleasure.

That was a helicopter. That was a person. That's your way out.

Jolting upwards, you twisted the chain tighter then it ever was before, and headed towards the door, opening it and wandering out into the now quiet street. You watched the aircraft fade into the distance, voice growing quieter, engine growing softer, before it was but a blip in the horizon.

'They're making rounds.' You thought to yourself.

Circling the city, alerting people to the evacuation. All you have to do is make it to the top of that big ol' building. Festering with hordes. And hunters. And probably smokers. And those big muscle tank of an infected.

You could totally do that.

The growling from the hunter finally quieted.

Sniffing with an absentminded thought, you looked to your hunter and let out one of the biggest grins you had on since the apocalypse, and to your utter and total shock, he responded to your joy, however small or minuscule it was.

He seemed to smile back. Softer then a grin, much, much softer. It could barely be called a smile. Just the slightest pull of his facial muscles, before a loud and happy yet still deep rumble resounded from his chest.

"Haha! I know its wishful thinking," you paused, "but you look really... happy."

He just tilted his head, face relaxing back into that blank look he just loves to give.

Looking back into the distance, hoping to spot the helicopter another time, you were shook by finding something that wasn't machine at all.

Once again, from a peaceful atmosphere to a stony air, things soured quickly.

This time not because of noise, but from pure instinct. A gut wrenched feeling settled into your stomach, and the air became tense and unwanted. Something was about to happen.

You glanced to your companion. Claws tense against the ground, body ready to move at any second. He felt it too. You could tell.

Then the gunshots began. The screaming, the clawing, shoes clattering against the ground.

A horde, you'd know that sound. But the gunshots were new.

It was decidedly best if you left hurriedly. And you did so, turning your heel on the commotion and speed walking the best you could in the opposite direction.

You did not want to be apart of whatever that was, other survivors and horde all.

Speed walking couldn't get you away forever though. With the sounds, they were heading in your direction, and you swallowed the sudden increase in saliva the best you could.

The hunter was right next to, slowly making his way out of a crouched position to walk beside you, towering your figure and making a chuffing noise with his breath.

You weren't stopping to see what he wanted. Not now.

So you kept walking down the dusky street, eyes wide with the approaching noise behind you. Louder and louder, the rumbling of the street as you could distinctly make out the roaring of that bubbly mass of muscles you had seen once before.

Great. Horde of un-dead and a tank to lead them. What could be better?

Oh right, the survivors with their deafening guns blazing and the yelling of their strained voices as they ran.

Finally, you could no longer keep your speed walking controlled, and you legs stumbled out into an uneasy sprint. You didn't have your backpack. You didn't have your gun. You left it in the office. You took it off to look at your damn map- that was still inside and left forgotten on the floor.

If you could cry, you would have, but you sucked it up in favor of steadying your uneven gait.

At last, the survivors had seemed to catch up to you, running to your left just a bit behind you.

"Another survivor!" A female voice.

You glanced back, meeting the eyes of a young adult, red jacket abnormally bright and clean for the apocalypse. Your eyes went past her though, and back at the massive creature, who had just decided to lob at car at all of us.

How delightful.

It crashed to the right of you, glass shards flying into your skin as you abruptly cut into an alleyway.

The other group followed, veering away from the car and right after your lead.

The hunter, who had kept pace next to you, growling louder, and much more violently, crouched back upon the ground and just barely nicking your heel with his claws.

"One of those freaks that got Louis!" I gruffer male voice, assumedly by the biker.

"DON'T SHOOT!!" You barely recognized your own voice, so high strung and terrified, "PLEASE DON'T SHOOT"

Don't shoot at him, please.

"Francis!! Don't shoot you might hit the survivor!!" The female's yells were appreciated, yet you knew it was for your safety and not your companions.

"Quick get to the roof!!"

I meer look at the ladder, before a look back at the tank who was gaining on you specifically because of how slow of a runner you were, and you knew you couldn't climb that ladder in time

You kept running, hunter heavily upon you, and tank being distracted as what you could assume was Francis, and an older man began to stand ground and shoot at that beast.

That was the last you saw before you turned corner and continued to sprint down a different alley.

Farther and farther away you drew, before finally you thought you could begin to slow down.

And, quite abruptly, you did.

The tripping on your shoes from your trusted companion ended, before a heavy weight crushed you to the ground, breath leaving your lungs as you face planted into the asphalt and scratched your face along its rough surface.

Like clockwork, one misfortune happened after enough, and pain buried its way into your arm like a hot coil.

The shirt ripped with the pull of a mouth, muscles being torn into before being jerked out with a tearing motion.

Before you could stop it, you let out a hurt cry, shutting your jaw and looking to where you faintly felt the tissue in your arm tearing.

The jingle of a chain as he moved, the claw like weights on both of your forearms and the nose that was pressed into the large bite mark on your arm was all that you needed to see to know who and what had bitten you, forced you to the ground, and all but dominated your sense of pride.

You ran, you shouldn't have, but you did.

Death didn't seem to be a fitting punishment.

Seeing him open his mouth again, bloody and sharp teeth lingering around the first gouge with a deep breathe, you couldn't stop the shaking sob that came from your mouth.

Sad. Desperate. The cracked voice behind it was one that spoke of the faintest of hopes finally being squashed out by a big hand, dying embers flickering their last light.

He was infected. And you should've let go.

Should've put him out his twisted misery.

Several more sobs racked you body, quiet and slow. Accepting the situation you had admittedly put yourself in.

He heaved another breath in, shifting his head from your wound to you neck.

Hot blood dribbled from his chin, softly landing on you neck as he pressed closer with his teeth. A soft snap of his teeth and his jaw closed, and you flinched, expecting another bite.

Instead, you felt his breath, and his hard bloody fangs resting almost gently along your skin.

Goosebumps rose over your arm when his moment of consideration ended, and his jaw parted again. Slowly, he began to close down, teeth set by set poking through.

"I thought better of you."

Was the last bitter and regretful thing you ushered through your lips.

And then he froze

Mouth still halfway closed around your now bleeding neck and heavy arms still forcing you down.

Almost confused acting, he unsurely let go of your neck. The wet noise of him licking his maw was quiet as he tensed and untensed his claws.

You took in a shuddering breath. Why did he let go.

Hunters never let go.

You've seen countless times how, even when being shot at, they will refuse to stop tearing at their foes.

They're just that hard set on killing.

But now, with him pining you to the ground, and acting so suddenly unsure of his actions, you weren't sure what to think.

He shifted his hips and sat up just a little straighter. A few droplets of blood fell from his chin and hit your back. He kept straddling you though, sitting there in his uncertainty and listening to your occasional sniffle.

Maybe you can negotiate with him in the only way you seem to know how.

Turning your head in his direction the best you could, you snapped your teeth together, audible click hopefully reaching his ears.

He tensed up again, hands clamming together tighter around your forearms, to the point that you had to wince, before he let up on the strength, pushing his nose one last time into the bite on your arm with a heavy sniff, before finally releasing, and backing off of you.

The moment his weight left, you scrambled in a desperate flurry, scratching the pavement to help raise yourself into a standing position.

Just as frantically, you backed away, hitting the alley wall and holding the pulsating and bloody bite.

As fast as you rose and scrabbled backwards, he had risen faster, placing much slower and calmer footsteps toward you.

An epitome of terrifying he was. Tall figure towering you, clawed hands wide spread with anticipation, heavy chest taking deep breaths, and blood smeared and dripping all of his maw and nose.

Your blood.

From your wound.

Which he caused.

Closer and closer he drew, until the tip of you nose just brushed below his chest. He wasn't this tall before the apocalypse. Taller then most, yes, but not to the point that he made people feel smaller then a timid mouse.

Squinting your eyes in exhaustion, you kept yourself against the wall, acknowledging that he didn't try to cage you with his arms. Simply observing you, at a very close proximity.

The encounter felt like an hour, but in reality only a few minutes had pasted, and the horde that had been so distracted by the other survivors, had begun to come around, screaming and running finally ending up down the path you had taken.

With a jolt, you had made a movement to run, but a hand grabbed you by the injured arm, and you let out a scalding wince.

You needed to get to safety, clearly, yet your hunter could never get a clue, as his hand tightened around your forearm again. He swung a hefty arm at the infected that came close to make it stumble while he kept his intense stare on you.

By the third time the infected tried attacking you, he clung tighter to you and outright gouged his claws into the opposing infected's head, turning back to you as quickly as he had dealt with it.

Looking back at him, you tugged him forward the best you could, "Come ooon- we need to go." With your free arm you pointed down the street making him glance at the alley before back to you, "And, Let. Go."

You put your hand around his arm, tugging at it to try to force him off.

His lips dropped into a tighter frown, watching as blood from your bite continued to drip out and onto his claws.

He had finally begun to let go, when several more infected ran over, followed by even more.

Still a nuisance to him, but not a big problem.

But then, more and more came running out, and before you knew it, the rumbling of that tank followed after. Your hunter finally deemed the situation unsafe when the muscled beast flung its self around the corner, squashing several infected to be the first in line.

A look to you, a look to the chain, and a look behind him, and he wrapped his bicep around your abdomen and crouched. It squished your guts to be forced to crouch with him, but did you care?

No.

You were getting out of a very dangerous situation, you could deal with this.

Unlike your lithe companion though, being that high in the air didn't make you look elegant. It had a goat effect on you- whole body freezing up with a death grip on the arm around your stomach. Faintly you noticed the horde trampling where you used to be.

Landing was just as ungraceful as jumping was. With only one arm to try to land on and the fact that he prefers to land on all fours, the moment he touched the ground, you jerked forward, hitting your head against the hard roof concrete and letting out a pained yell.

"Ah- Fuck" your one uninjured arm clutched the spot that was hit as he let you drop down fully onto the ground.

The hunter hovered over you for a split second, before backing off- clearly remembering that time he bit you- and giving you space.

And there your ragtag group of two sat. One bruised, scratched up, bitten, clunked around, and overall just a mess of hurt and emotional trauma. And the other, was as picture perfect as before, calm, silent, and dribbled with a bloody mouth.

You sat there. In your own ache and aftermath adrenaline. Sore muscles shaking. Rib cage still feeling the weight of the hunter atop you. The bitten arm burning and barely working to move.

You needed to try to treat it.

Sucking in some more fresh air and still having the lingering feeling of half emptiness inside, you finally sat up.

It took even longer for you to look at your hunter. A base fear of being bitten again faintly rushed through your neck and to your bite wound.

Huffing you motioned him over, clenched your teeth as he came closer.

Once within reaching distance, you turned him around and began to search through his bag.

Food, food, food, matches, tarp...

Health pack.

Bingo.

Immediately after zipping the backpack back up, you shooed him, digging into the health pack and shakily beginning to unload the items onto the cleanest area on the ground. The bite mark burned the more you thought about it.

Picking up the gauze, you cut a piece and began applying pressure to the wound.

The hunter watched in compliant silence, noting your urgency yet doing nothing to assist.

The bleeding had to stop eventually.

Oh god.

You hoped it would stop.

It had too.

It was agonizing waiting for the inevitable pause or continuation of the bleeding.

Two, maybe five minutes of putting pressure onto the throbbing bite, and you felt as though it was beginning to slow.

Peeling off the gauze, and peering at the bloody mess that was part of your arm, you deemed it well enough to begin treating.

You glanced back at the items. Not bothering with the latex gloves, you tossed them to the side and instead focused on the saline. Funky salty stuff, but necessarily to help.

You dumped it onto the bite without a second thought, watching the blood and water mix.

Preferably, you would be running your arm under a faucet, but this was the best you could do.

Once empty, you took out the gauze again, firmly wrapping it the best you could with only one arm to use.

All the other pains in your body were bad, but not as bad as the bite, or say, the possible concussion you now have from the landing.

Oh well.

Nothing you could fix now.

You settled on intensely staring at the hunter, frown on your face and distance between you evident.

He went to take a step forward, but you immediately snapped your jaw at him, watching as he acknowledged your warning before settling back onto his haunches with a snap of his own.

If he thought you'd let him anywhere near you after what happened, he thought wrong.

All you wanted to do was rest, sleep, or anything even remotely considered as relaxing. But as far as you were concerned, you could only sit atop this roof- bloody and tired- with patience.

Sleeping with a concussion was unwise, even if you wanted to.

So, slumping where you sat, head pounding as you tilted it upwards, you waited.

Waited and waited, shifting your legs and rubbing your knuckles with closed eyes.

Once your head stopped, you'd let yourself sleep.

The wind chilled you where you sat, night cold and eery with the infected screams below you, yet that did nothing to make you less tired.

As patiently or unpatiently as was possible, and waited for as long as you could.

Honestly, you really did try.

But eventually, the banging in your head, and the exhaustion in your bones was simply too much.

Sliding off to your side, with your breaths evening out into a slow pace, the faintest feeling of warm enclosed around you.

Arms.

That you didn't rightly care to bother with as you slumbered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nothing much to be said.
> 
> Except for FUCK- that bite stings


	6. Chapter 6: The Third Perspective

A stale black.

Silence, no sound.

A flicker of my eyes. Peering open, crawling from the shadows.

Bright, unfocused.

Sound slowly filtering in from around me.

It feels nice.

Quiet rustling.

Soothing.

The light exhales beside me.

the warmth of her.

It was... good.

she was

good.

High

High above the ground

far from the danger

That was were we were.

That is were we are.

It's no longer dark.

Closed. Her eyes were closed. Are closed. Still closed.

Her hand.

Its on me.

She doesn't know its on me.

Of course she doesn't.

I did something.

Bad.

Bad for me.

Didn't know it was bad.

Blood, on my teeth.

Her blood.

I didn't like it.

Yet I did.

Her eyes

Still closed.

Not always closed.

A deep breath.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Through my nose. Out of my nose.

Her scent.

It was around me, flooding my senses.

Comforting. Soothing.

Washing me in familiarity.

Every breathe, another stroke

Another stroke her

Another stroke of calm

Another stroke of something

Something familiar

Something-

Nice.

Nice-nice-nice

Nice

She was

Nice.

Good.

She is good.

She's always been- always has been- always will be

Nice.

The scent of air, high, high above the ground

The scent of her.

Her voice

So... something

It was always there

Its been there before.

Before what?

Behind the edge, behind the cliff I never see

Its been there

Its been in a place I can't see

I hear it

I hear it all to well

The chime of something... nice

High, the voice is high

A light with something....

Happy..

The voice is happy.

Its...

Just

It makes me happy...

Happy....

So happy

So... nice

Beneath the shirt of my chest

I feel happy.

Beneath my skin

She makes me feel nice

Everywhere

Her hand

It'll graze me

Her legs, they will touch me

Her arms, can embrace me-

Pressed against her

Covering her

Protecting her

Wherever she touches is agonizing

Bad.

Its bad

It

It burns

It is burning.

Bad burning

Burning all too hotly

I could pull away.

I should pull away.

no.

I don't want to pull away

I don't want to stop touching her, feeling her, breathing her

Running myself across her, rubbing my essence onto her

Spreading her burn across my own.

The burn feels too..

GOOD.

Hurt was like pain

A pain that stung

But

This

This felt good

Too good.

I don't-

I can't

I'd never

If anything could take me from this

From her

I would...

Hurt it.

Something...

Anything-

Open my mouth and hold.

Hold down.

Tear down

Break it apart

..

..

....

.

..

.  
.

..

.

.  
....  
.

..

....

..

.  
.

.

..

....

.

She's close to me.

..

.

....

..

.

....

.

.

I want to be closer.

.

.....

.

.

..

...

.

.  
.  
.

...

Moving closer won't hurt her.

.

...

Wrapping my arms tightly around her won't hurt her

..

.

Nestling myself among her limbs won't pain her

.

....

...

.

..

Moving closer burns.

...

.

It burns me.

..

.

....

It burns my skin, and all fleshy parts beneath.

...

.

..

....

..  
.  
..

.

.  
..  
.

.

Does it burn her too?

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol- so how'd I do? I was trying to type from the hunter's perspective, but I'm not too sure that the whole idea got across
> 
> He doesn't have a grip on his mind. Sometimes he can hold down thoughts properly, others it's jumbled into a mess of instinctual urges, and in this chapter, he using just a little more of his reasoning.
> 
> As much as he can reason, lol. If you couldn't quite tell, he was trying to describe his attraction. To you. Lol that's embarrassing to say XD
> 
> No matter what thought he has, it's always influenced greatly by instincts, and will ALWAYS have a base animistic sense to them.
> 
> So in summary:
> 
> Hunter boi tries to hold down some rational thoughts about his hot companion, proceeds to flounder like a child holding wet soap.


	7. Chapter 7: The Rewind

God.

Things felt so hazy to you.

Five days, cramped up into a safe room. You barely slept in your own anxiousness.

It started when you had just reached safety. You had been worming your way through countless hordes' prying hands, small lines of blood being torn in the both of your skins. It hadn't affected you.

Not in the slightest.

But, your companion?

You couldn't comment with the way he suddenly lost his strength.

The first few hours were torture, tending over your injured companion.

All the minuscule scratches he had endured through masses of infected people, clearly caught up to him, trembling legs unable to properly support himself.

Hauling him in through the door, placing him down with the backpack as his pillow, he laid feverishly on the ground, propped up only by your lowly beaten up backpack.

It had only just started.

The turning process.

You were calm.

You had to be.

But as the first hour ticked past and his labored breathing persisted, you began to crack.

His pants came out quick and fast, with shuddering and pain littered through them.

His groans were quiet, always considerate even now when death seemed to beckon to him.

You had known what was happening, yet you couldn't keep yourself from trying to stop this.

'It was a cold.'

You had repeated in your mind. Persistently you retold yourself these words.

"You have a cold.", you had said to him, "You'll get better." A quiet whisper, sniffling throughout it as though speaking would help.

Even though he couldn't focus on what you were saying, and his thoughts were drifting from conscious to unconscious, you had repeated this to him, wiping sweat off his brow with a rag and leaning over him with a desperate look in your eye.

As you spoke, another dam in your mind broke down, and yet another fresh onslaught of tears bubbled to your eyes.

"You're not-" You choked on your own voice, a shattered sob leaping forth from your throat, "You-" you sobbed again, pressing your head onto his chest and clutching the rag in your hand with a deathly hold.

A few more weeping seconds and you finally gritted out the end to your words, "You're not going to leave me."

That was the first hour.

The second passed in a very similar fashion, your blubbering bawls filling the room as you tried anything you could to tend to him. Cleaning scratches, wiping sweat, whispering words he couldn't quite hear under his own breathing.

The third was the same, albeit you had finally begun to settle, running fingers through his hair and whispering to him in the most soothing voice you could manage. The panting never seemed to end.

When he had finally passed out, either from pain, or sheer exhaustion, it was the fourth hour into this mess.

And with a heavy heart, you pulled him onto your lap, hand still stroking his hair, only if to calm yourself.

Tears fell in a dribbled mess onto his face as you sat hunched over him, engraving a face into your mind that you felt you might never see again.

By the fifth hour, you still couldn't will yourself to sleep. Arms holding tightly to him and hand aching with the constant petting. He looked dead on your lap, and you couldn't bear to stare any longer, instead choosing to look blankly at the ceiling.

The rest of that day passed by in sleep. A sleep so restless and heavy in your heart that you woke every time you closed your eyes, and strained to see him each time you inevitably were jolted awake.

When the sun had just began to rise and the birds chirped and the condensation hung heavy in the air, you were awake. Eyes half lidded and sore from the crying. Your voice felt raw. Your wrist felt almost sprained with the incessant stroking. And anything you tried to tell yourself didn't seem to work.

The only thing you could do was focus on his breathing. He was alive.

Alive and kicking.

An hour after the sun had risen, and you finally shifted him off of you, a feeling of dread sinking into you as you searched for things to aid him with.

Water.

For when he woke up.

Not if.

Even mentioning 'if' made you shake was the urge to re-dampen your still red cheeks with tears.

Promptly after placing the water in a good place, you had pulled him back onto your lap, sucking in a sharp and woeful breath of air.

Water.

For when he wakes up.

Focus on the breathing.

Two more hours of wrist breaking petting, and he finally stirred, rolling his body as if trying to find comfort.

You gladly extended your arms to him, pulling him into a hug, despite his still unconscious state.

Water.

Breathing.

He's fine.

The scratches were nothing.

Another two hours, and he had rolled several more times. But had begun to show increasing discomfort. Tightening his lips in a sour frown, eyebrows furrowing, and eyes squeezing further closed. He placed a whimpering hand onto the arm that neglected to caress his hair, simply holding it in a loose grip.

Then, the more dreadful stage began.

Another hour in and his discomfort skyrocketed.

With a start, he sprung up off of your lap, desperately shaking and rapidly glancing around the room. Try as you might, you couldn't grab his attention, and he let out a panicked yelp of a cry.

By the time you forced him to look at you, a mere few seconds of grabbing his shoulders and spinning him in your direction, he lifted his hands to claw at his face in an intense and self destructive way.

No matter of pleading and begging stopped him, so you took it in stride and began to pry his hands away from his face to spare his beautiful and bright green eyes.

He writhed against your grip, wishing to tear at himself, before something seemed to click in his head.

His eyes were becoming murkier. Not quickly, but since the last time you saw them they already seemed to be covered in a film.

"Are you...." you started, tightening your grip on his wrists for a moment and keeping the low whisper in your mind of something worse at bay, "Okay now?"

His eyes darted everywhere, hot breath fanning your face as he tried to catch lost air.

He took a moment, shaking his head, fluttering his eyes, before finally narrowing in on you.

"Y-" A pause, knees buckling at a sudden loss of strength, "Ye..ah...."

Shifting a supportive hand around his back, you lowered him to the ground, kneeling next to him as he became more aware of things.

"I just...." A shiver ran down his spine and his hand pressed against his head, "I don't know what came over me."

You gave him a sour look, "You tried to claw your eyes out- I'd like more details." Raising a hand, you wiped at the blood running down the trails his raking finger nails left behind.

"Hell, you almost did claw them out- if I hadn't of stopped you." You shuddered to yourself, "I don't want to think about it."

You expected a sarcastic quip back. Something to boldly flare his spitfire personality around.

But he didn't reply, merely pulling his knees closer to his chest and letting blood continue to drip out of the gouged marks.

Those could get infected.

You'd best clean them.

"Come here." One would think patting a hand beside yourself would be an obvious social que to scoot closer, yet he still kept quiet, muttering to himself and tapping his fingers on his shin with a quick flurry of off beat drums.

In a situation like this, you were obviously concerned, and voiced those concerns by placing an arm on his shoulder.

The expected outcome was him coming to and saying something like, 'oh shoot, yeah.' Or, 'sorry, spaced out a little.'

But when he twisted his body in your direction with a loud ass snarl that sounded like the belt of a motorcycle, flat teeth bared as though they were that of a predators, and eyes so flared with anger, you were obviously frightened, jolting back almost entirely.

"What the hell!" Was the first thing you said, the recoiled hand near your chest tightening.

He snapped into focus again, blinking and scattering his focus around the room before looking to you.

"Shit- I didn't." He frowned, "I don't-" he frowned just a little harder, "I'm....."

"....Infected...." you finished for him, voice uttering out a quiet and mournful tone you wished would have never had to have been used.

His mouth hung open in a ghastly facial expression. Any sort of color he still had from the fever left him as he paled. He spared a look to the floor and a look to you, mouth still hanging.

"God-" he placed both of his hands on his head, "Fucking- shit-"

A deep breath, in and out.

He was steadying himself.

Something you found hard to do as you finally accepted the facts.

You shuddered, and all the tears you lost those first three hours were for naught as more began bubbling to the surface.

The ugly sob that left you was immediately countered as he scooted closer to you, tugging you into himself.

The hug you had was long, and tight, and so undeniably filled with the grief you both shared. Every brush of your limbs was appreciated, and every twirl of hair he'd spin and toy with was thanked for.

You wept into him, feeling his heavy breath. Feeling his warmth. Relishing in it for what might possibly be your last time.

In a way, you admired him. How he could be the one giving comfort, when really it should be reversed.

Here he was, sentenced to a fate that he'd never return from, yet you were the one wiping every drop of tear you had onto his hoodie.

Some comfort you were.

He was just as upset as you were, you could see it in the way his body tensed, and how every once and awhile, the hand that was twirling hair would pause, and shake before steadying.

That hour passed quickly, and when the next came, your hug had already ended.

You sat pressed beside each other. His knee bounced anxiously, bumping into your own leg in the same unfocused rhythm his fingers were drumming on your hip.

While normally, the arm wrapped around your side would be a bit strange and questioned, you didn't dare inquire, too sad and worried to comment on something you found comfort in.

It was a bit of a waiting game. One that neither of you wanted to play.

"Hey." He said suddenly, voice still solemn.

"...yeah...?" Was your response.

"Phone still charged?"

You nodded, "You and I both know internet's out."

The dejected tone you spoke in made him put more effort into his own, "You can still take pictures, and if I'm not gonna be here, well, better leave something behind." While his happy tone was fake, yes, it was a necessary fake. One that encouraged you to beam back in such a trying time.

Nodding, with a small smile, you slipped your phone out of your pocket. The fact that you almost cried again at his word choice was hidden with a grin that matched his own.

Yet another hour.

You both senselessly took as many photos as you could. Funny faces, serious faces, smiling faces, anything and everything to try to distract yourselves from what was coming. The way his pale features slowly worsened throughout the photos was making you more anxious then before.

You could tell he noticed too, knee tapping faster and more anxiously the more you flipped through photos.

"I should probably leave you here." You started, tears building up in your eyes again as you slipped your phone away, "But I'm not-" a few drops fell, "Cause then- I wouldn't get to spend as much time with you as I could."

He looked at you, a battle fighting in his head, "I should probably tell you to go." A big hand found its way onto your own, "But I really, really don't want to be alone."

You smiled at him, before frowning when he violently shook his head and flickered his gaze all across the room.

"It's... really getting hard to focus..." was what he muttered, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles before squeezing.

The only thing you could do was squeeze back.

And there you stayed, seconds spent in each others presence ticking on into minutes, before another hour made its way through.

He was getting more sporadic with his twitches. The knee would start. The knee would stop, his head would twitch, his arm would jolt. It got to the point where holding his hand started hurting too much, and you both decided to just sit next to each in as much peace as could be gathered from a moment like this.

He grew only paler, eyes becoming duller each time you met them. The last time you tried running a hand through his chocolate brown hair, he violently began to thrash, gargling snarls through his throat unwillingly.

You refrained from any such action afterwards, sitting beside him solemnly and peering from your peripherals as he worsened. The gouging from his nails was still fresh on his face, and you wanted nothing more then to attend to him, but when you asked, he simply told you not to waist supplies.

He was right.

Just-

Just focus on the breathing.

He's still alive and kicking.

Finally, in the next hour, things rapidly declined.

The body beside you jolted forward, his hands clutching his head with anguish.

He yelled, begging whatever was out there to make the pain stop. His breath divulged into panting, shuddering huffs of breath that reminded you of the first time he fell victim to the fever.

You didn't care if he was thrashing. Your friend needed you- needed you of all things in his last moments, needed help, comfort.

Latching onto him, you buried your face in his shoulder. Split up from your family- your friend- turning in your arms at this very moment, it made you curse and spat venomously at anything and everything that could have made these things happen, as if this was some show, watched for amusement by others.

From the way his body convulsed in pants and coughs and sputters, and anything that could even remotely describe the way he was folding in on himself.

He turned to you, in tears, teeth clenching, "God- thank you for sticking by me you sweet person-" his panting was running his voice dry, and it cracked the more he spoke, "Because- I did not." He clenched his teeth, "I didn't-" Tears streamed down his face in a snotty mess, "want. To do this, alone."

You squeezed your face together, simply pulling him in for a hug as he continued to convulse and snivel things to you.

"And you know-" his voice squeaked upwards, "I only fucking got into parkour because of you. I never told you that."

You said nothing, simply holding him tighter.

"You just fucking loved it so much."

"Watch your profanity...." you weakly muttered out, clenching him and shakily letting out a breath.

He kept talking, ignoring your weak attempt at humor, "I thought if-" a swallow, "I learned it- you'd be impressed."

He straightened himself the best he could, trying to glimpse a look into your eyes. He barely could, as his eyes flickered in and out of focus with every second passing, "Because I really." A pause for emphasis, "Fucking." Another pause, "Like you."

You just kept crying, gurgling out his name in your unbridled feeling of deep misery.

But you wish you answered him then.

Wish you had said something back sooner.

Because the one moment he was quivering, and the next...

He wasn't.

He collapsed into your tense and bear arms, unmoving.

And you immediately reacted, laying him on the floor and placing your hands on his arm, "Chris- come on-"

You shook him, still shaking, "Christian- hang on a little longer-"

"I'm not joking- you ass."

You knew.

You did.

You really did.

But did you wish you didn't?

Yes.

He wasn't down forever.

It started as a slow tapping of his nails.

In rhythm, calculated.

Before it paused.

His eyelids were next, peeling back with a new found calmness.

His pupils were full blown, unsure, before decidedly narrowing in to attention.

His teeth clacked with a tight snap of his jaw, and he let out a long, calm breath.

He wasn't who he used to be.

In a lurching gag, he shot up into a crouch, snarling and baring his teeth at you in a similar way you'd seen him before turning.

In the depths of his eyes you saw the want and need for bloodshed, lurking and throwing itself into his actions.

You recoiled your arms, slowly standing and watching as he analyzed your every movement.

The moment you recognized the way he lowered himself, was the moment you jumped out of the way, dodging his deathly leap and letting him skid off into shelf, which toppled onto him at the force.

You needed to be quick. Raking the room with your eyes, you noticed something.

The metal chains, hanging along the way. Clearly meant for a more utility purpose such as lifting, but normality didn't matter at the moment.

A sprint, a grab, and a turn of you feet, and you were met with the sight of him shaking the shelf off with a deep growl.

You tightened the cold metal in your hands, the jingling it made unnaturally cheery sounding for such an intense situation.

You knew what to do.

Tensing did nothing to steel yourself for what it was though.

He lept, nails first, at you, before you dodged, using his moment of recovery to sling the metal around his neck.

The hitched breath that released him was of shock, his arms flinging backwards to try to pull you off, and he fell chest first onto the floor, snarling and foaming at the mouth with struggle.

You pulled tighter and tighter, feeling his muscles shake and become weary the longer you held.

They were infected, not dead. And everything alive needed to breathe.

You listened, choking growls settling before he finally slumped to the ground without movement.

In all honesty, you should have kept holding. Held down longer and longer, until he wouldn't have had a chance to survive.

But you didn't.

Instead, you wrapped the wretched chain around him, using clips, and anything you could find to harness him.

Faux fabric, tightly knotted and layered until you were sure it would hold.

And afterwards, craftsmanship finished, you wound the chain leash to the sturdy piping.

You covered his face with the hood, not being able to bear the dead look on his face.

Two days, of seeing him slowly turn in your arms, and now that it was said and done, you sat exhausted in the corner, gun clenched in your hands, eyeing the unconscious body lying a distance away from you.

The few minutes that passed after you finished and solemnly slunched into the corner were quick. Seconds ticking past each time you blinked.

You thought back on pleasant memories. All the happy and fond moments you had, slowly being poisoned by the discontentment you now felt. Sadness permanently tarnishing your childhood.

A few more minutes and he woke. You kept staring. Even as he lurched forward at you, jerking the wind out of himself, and snarling when he couldn't reach you.

Everything about the way he held himself was wrong.

From the way he ground his nails against the floor.

The way he crouched on all fours with a predatorial air about him.

To the shadows of his face that clenched in a wrathful hate.

All of it was just, wrong.

It wasn't him.

Not the him you knew at least.

It sickened you all the more to know that he was never coming back.

Tears welled up in your eyes again, pushing against another flood gate you locked within yourself.

But it was different.

He was gone.

There was no way you could stop this.

And as such, you rubbed your eyes.

Wetness smearing against your hand as you steeled yourself.

Things were different now.

Things were harder now.

If you wanted to survive, you had to become harder too.

.

.

That was harder said then done.

The next three days, and you never slept, not once. If you so much as began to nod off- through all the snarling and pacing of his feet and hands- the thought of being ripped apart surfaced in your mind, jolting you back into reality.

The rumbling growls, and the nails that had begun to curve into claws were frightening.

The once flat teeth, now sharpening into rows of carnivorous spikes were terrifying.

But you didn't once raise your gun to shoot him.

You just, simply, couldn't.

At the end of the five days spent inside the safe room, you finally bridged the thought that, 'yes. I need to keep moving.'

You dared place a foot in past the circumference he could attack you, and he only seemed unnerved by you. Not aggressive.

It was a mystery why he had calmed.

You fastened his chain to your arm, winding it somewhat tightly against your skin.

The stray bite he aimed at your leg was warded off with the but of your gun.

You probably hit harder then was necessary

He learned quickly not to test your limits.

He still did though.

On the off chance you weren't looking, he'd crawl closer, snarls always giving him away.

Building to building you traversed, always moving as quietly and as swiftly as you could.

He always tugged on the chain, bounding ahead of you and jerking you along. Growls and yelps, animalistic noises and body language to accompany it.

He wasn't a good companion.

But hey, you thought bitterly.

'At least I'm not alone...'

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp. That concludes this trip to the past. Yall know just how traumatic it was to see yo best friend turn.
> 
> Yup.
> 
> That how it happened.
> 
> .
> 
> ●
> 
> The next chapter shall continue with where you left off in both the helicopter and the third perspective.


	8. Chapter 8: The Medium

If you still had any sort of faint grasp on your own emotions, you would still be fighting. Struggling against the swarm of feeling that swayed your dreams.

That nap you just had, long and stiff, was filled with so many painful memories. Ones that you had thought were still in the past.

All throughout them you struggled, watching them, reaching out and feeling your heart breaking with the intense guilt and sadness that riddled each flashing image.

Awaking, from all of the awful things you had just relived, left you out of breath, gasping openly and reaching your arms out for something to claw onto and steady yourself.

Fabric found its way into your stern grip, and your fingers raked the back of the thing that brought you such intense and traumatizing feelings.

The tighter you latched onto him, the tighter your heart clenched.

You bitterly reminded yourself that in your grief, you failed to put him out of his misery.

You failed to continue moving on without him.

So much so that you dragged him along unwillingly through his infected state.

Tears burned your eyes as you continued to nestle yourself into the mess of limbs and clothes beside you.

God be damned. You couldn't stop the fact that you missed your best friend.

Best friend that confessed to you the moment he died. That only confused and frustrated your feelings even more.

Sometimes you wished your psyche wasn't so complicated. Layers upon layers of emotions molding you into the person you are.

That's what made the two of you different.

He was stripped of those same layers, left only with the base instincts that kept him alive and killing.

Still, the warmth of him said otherwise.

He nestled you closer to him, one arm around the small of your back, and the other wrapped around the back of your head. It was a firm cage of muscle and bone, one you couldn't shake off, even if you wanted.

Everything ached in your body. From your head, to your arm, to all the scratches on your legs. The rug burn on your face from being pushed along the ground. Rubble and dirt felt like acid along the cuts, but you didn't care to fix it.

You just wanted to feel safe.

And ironically, you could only seem to feel safe with the one thing that always bites you in the back when things turned sour.

You blinked your tears away, taking in a shuddering breath, before forcing your face into his chest.

He pulled you closer as you did this, clearly unaware of your mental turmoil.

His calm breaths were very different from yours. Long, still, and content with himself.

The more you pulled him into you, the more he reciprocated, curling around you and letting out a loud yet deep trill of a rumble, vibrations shaking your own chest. His chin rested above your head, as close as he could be in everything he did.

When your arms finally retracted from his back, settling back in front of you and in turn his chest, the rumbling stopped. His angled head tilted to look at you, eyes peering with a searching look.

Did he want you to wrap your arms around him?

Did he want you to embrace him?

With a clack of his teeth, he curved his spin toward you, pressing his maw into the crook of your neck.

A heavy chuffing breath left his mouth, pleased with whatever it is that goes through his mind.

That moment, however long, or short, ended when you felt him scrape his teeth along the soft skin that lay there.

You jolted, fear immediately rushing you and reminding you of what he did to your arm.

Blood, dripping.

Teeth piercing.

Savage snarls that curled into a monster's image.

You reeled, pulling your arms back and smashing them into his face.

He tensed as you did this, retreating his head back with the force, but hesitating to release you.

You said nothing, just the fear of his teeth and the sensations that came with the dragging motion driving you.

He, after careful thought and consideration, released you. The loud click of his jaw was one of understanding and annoyance, and the claw that rose to rub his sore jaw played into that emotion even more.

Emotions.

God, you really were starting to loose it.

You had to stop... projecting- these things onto him.

Putting emotion where emotion wasn't rightly there.

Sighing, you still lay flat on the ground, feeling the ache from your body refuse to let you stand.

The helicopter parent that your hunter was currently acting like wasn't helping you either.

He crouched next to you, analyzing your every movement with an intelligent eye.

Clenching your teeth, you attempted to sit up, muscles straining to work. A hand behind you gave you the last bit of force you needed, and you merely glanced at the hunter, steady claws finding purchase along your hip.

A squeeze, a release, and he took a step away from you, respecting your boundaries.

Huffing, you made another movement to stand.

Every muscle groaned, scratching against one another to find energy to push.

Push you did, until a sudden stabbing sensation pulled in your thigh. On reflex, you reached for the pain, almost collapsing if it wasn't for yet another hand.

He stood, at his full height beside you. One arm wrapped securely around your body, pulling you snugly into his side.

Tap.. tap ....... tap.

The off beat twitching of his claws against your hip sent goosebumps trailing through your skin.

If you could, you would move away from him. The furnace that was his body sucked you into the sensation of just... being... with someone.

The comfort- the swaying tower of warmth.

The reassurance that all you had to do was reach, and help would find its way.

The pure and maddening feeling of being enveloped by someone else when you were down on luck.

But something was different.

Something was burning you.

And you did not. Like it.

Shoving away from him, in all his safety and warmth, you stumbled, clutching your cramping thigh before tumbling forward.

The grip around your forearm prevented you from falling.

The grip, tight and foreboding, slowly pulled you back.

Back against his side.

Closer, yet not as close as before.

Just enough to comfortably support you.

He was beginning to accept boundaries.

Groaning at your own helplessness, you looked up at your captor. His disapproving frown was noticeable, and his eyes constantly flickered across you. From your head, to eyes. Lingering on mouth, and neck, and all the scratches littering your body.

He settled firmly on looking at your treated bite mark. His bite mark, in a sense.

Him being ruffled by that fact was an understatement. Anytime you winced because of it, he winced too.

After much thought, and awkward standing, he made a move to lower back to the ground, but you smacked his chest with your hand before he could get far.

"Uuum- no. We need to get to Mercy Hospital."

He paused, outright rolled his eyes, before standing back up, dragging you along with him.

You swore it was a hallucination. The eye roll thing. But it lingered longer in your mind then you would have liked.

With everything in order, and a piece of your mind still grasping the bits of sarcasm you see in him, your small group of two begins to head out.

Slow, steady, and most definitely not reminiscing about how nice it is to lean on someone.

Frequently, you had to give him pointers, directions on to where to go.

Going down the stairs inside of the building was an utter struggle, and for the last flight of steps, your hunter all but lifted you off the ground as he speed walked down.

Encountering any infected was in a way, worse. They'd get so close to you, before his claws would reach them, and even then, it took a bit to one handedly wretch his claws out of them.

You supposed it could have been worse. He could have killed you by now. Could've ignored your direction. Or could've used his smarts to break the chain and leave you.

You were relieved when your cramping leg finally ceased being a nuisance, and things could return to normal.

When his arm released you, and you could stand on your own, the walk became ten times easier to handle for your brain. No comforting figure pressed into you, and no dangerously close encounters with the commons.

Just the calmness that came with walking around on your lonesome.

Despite that, your hunter frequently switched between crouching and standing, always hovering close by as if to be a fail safe should you fall again.

Towards Mercy Hospital. That's where you needed to go.

And you pressed onward.

Not for very long though.

Scribbled on a wall was a safe house icon, and an arrow, and you thanked the people that were kind enough to put them up.

You were weaponless, and safe houses had supplies abundant left behind for straggling survivors.

Bonus mission.

Hit the safe house first- then Mercy Hospital.

So, you trudged in that direction. Weaponless, but ready to charge forward.

As long as you played your cards right, and kept quiet, you could make it without any hordes grouping up.

With the hunter beside you, chain jingling, you felt semi-confident you could do this. Still pretty scared shitless, but semi confident.

And what could you say?

You did make it.

Your stealthing worked for once and you followed the trail of safe house icons in relative ease.

Now, walking toward the red metal door of a safe room after treading through streets and the steps of a subway entrance, you felt pretty confident you could recover from the incident prior to this.

"Guess who's gonna get a gun again." You smirked, genuinely feeling happy.

The hunter looked to you and chuffed.

"Daz right. This person right here."

God, you did feel happy.

Things going your way just felt nice for once.

Gripping the door handle with your unbitten hand, and in turn the chained hand, you pushed, cracking the door open and nonchalantly strutting inside.

Badly beaten up.

Without a gun.

And only a hunter.

Oo wee.

You did not expect to see four survivors, guns clicking to the ready as you confidently walked your way in.

From happy, to terrified. Your mood went down the drain.

"Hold fire!" The female shouted, red jacket ruffling as she lowered her gun. She looked to her companions giddily, "See! I told you if we waited she would've turned up!"

They all lowered their guns, and the old grumpy looking man sniffed before taking a drag of his cigarette, "Damn lucky guess, that's what that was."

Surely stock frozen in place, there was something you were missing.

One small factor that could change this entire situation.

Right you were.

One of the loudest snarls you'd ever heard from your hunter shook your ears. And when you glanced behind you, to see him edging his way out from behind you, teeth bared and heavily clenching down on each other, you knew action had to be taken.

"DON'T SHOOT!" Your yell was as frantic and as desperate as it was the day before, chased down by a horde and a tank, fighting for your life.

But it wasn't your life on the line, it was his, and you grabbed the chain of his harness as he flung himself at the other survivors.

You just managed to hold him back, slamming into his hard back face first as his strength pulled you over.

You could feel his muscles retracting and heaving with each wrath filled breathe. Snarls, uttered through his lungs, were filling the room with his very bloody intent.

His spine was hunched and just as tense as his muscles, jutting out as he angled himself defensively toward the ground.

Everything about the way he was acting told of a defensive stance. But the survivors couldn't see it.

They saw a hunter, perched and ready to kill.

Their guns, glistening in the stale light, were trained on him, by some miracle not firing.

They all looked tense, especially the girl with the red jacket. The old man looked ready to clear a threat.

"Please-" you said, finding your footing and standing up, to which your hunter immediately straightened up, still snarling and all but shrouding your figure with his height, "Don't shoot."

You attempted to step around him, put yourself first so they wouldn't be able to riddle him with bullets, but he cut you off, stepping to the side and solely focusing on the group of four.

The second time he tried this, you slapped his arm, and forcefully walked in front of him, hearing him snap his teeth several times and resort to standing ominously behind you chest heaving with the occasional snarl.

"He-... uh, we... haven't had the best experience with other survivors..." One of his bloody claws gripped your shoulder.

"I swear he doesn't always act like this."

His hot breath fanned the back of your head, and you swore he could sense how disturbed you were by the set of survivors before you.

The biker was the first to speak, "I hate things that make me question my morals."

The old man was next, gruff voice making you all the more scared, "This isn't a matter of moral anything," He pulled something on his gun, "This is about protecting the group."

The man with a pack of pills on his belt said nothing, glancing to and from all the members in his group with a worried look.

The female once again spoke up, "Bill- think for a moment. It can kill her right now. It isn't."

The older man shifted his tired eyes. From your nervous face, to the tight claw that rested on your shoulder.

"That doesn't change my opinion." He frowned harder, "It tried to kill us."

The female frowned looking back to you, standing in the middle of the hallway.

You opened your mouth to speak, nearly squeaking with the anxiety of it all, "All I need is a gun, please. I don't have to stick with you guys of you don't want me to."

The man with the pills finally spoke up, "Zoey's right, it isn't killing her. Or us right now."

The older gentleman harrumphed, saying nothing yet still focusing his gun on the hunter behind you.

The biker sighed and shrugged, before walking away, and towards the supply table.

The rest of the three stayed, two staring at the older man with a pleading look.

"Any other infected would be on us already. What if there's a cure in him." The final words that left the females mouth put a nail in the coffin, as he lowered his gun with an annoyed sigh.

"Your lucky Louis was on your side, cause one against two would've made god awful argument." He flicked his cigarette, before immediately fishing a new one out of his pocket.

The female looked to you, "You can stay."

The old man didn't back down, despite his gun being lowered. He stood, in the same standoffish position, as the other two walked to the table with the biker.

He held your gaze- or more specifically, your hunters gaze.

Watching, waiting for him to act out.

You started to take the first few hesitant steps forward, still tense as you walked closer to the older man.

He pulled a lighter up to his cigarette, lighting it and taking in a deep breath, gun clenched in his other hand as you only got closer to him.

Your hunter huffed another few growls, almost as though a warning.

Just as you walked around him, he spoke, smoke filtering through his mouth and white beard shifting, "Keep your head on straight girl."

You didn't say anything, simply tugging your hunter along with you as you made your way to the guns table. Making yourself sparse, you grabbed an automatic before retreating and pulling your hunter towards the corner.

He complied without question, standing beside you as you leaned against the wall. In another attempt to keep peace, you let him mosey closer, full well knowing that if they shot at him, they'd shoot you too.

It was quiet like that for a bit, whispering, and weary glances filling the small bit of silence in the room. The never ending stare that the old man gave you was shearing years off your life. You could feel it.

From beside you, your hunter's claws were ticking in their offbeat pattern.

Tap.. tap .....tap....

Tap..... tap.. tap.. tap

The small clicks against the wall were restless. Still defensive and tense despite the atmosphere cooling off.

After that break of quiet time, the two survivors that defended you broke off from the group and went in your direction. They knew such little about you, yet still smiled at you, so the least you could do was smile back as they stopped before you.

The female, the closest to you, put her hand out, briefly flinching as the hunter growled.

"Names Zoey."

Her smile was a comfort, and finally, after standing in that corner tense and nervous, you sighed in relief, reaching your hand out to shake her own.

"(Y/N)."

She grinned just a little bit more cheerily.

The man with the pills was the next to reach his hand out, grinning even more cheerily then Zoey was, "Names Louis- Glad to meet you."

Smiling back, you shook his hand, "Glad to meet you too."

Zoey and Louis briefly shared a look of, 'I knew they weren't so bad' before looking back to you.

"The biker dude back there is Francis." Zoey gestured to the man at the table, tattoos a bit dirty from the apocalypse. He raised a middle finger pointedly.

Louis chimed in after, "Don't take his threats seriously. He does it as a joke. I think."

You rubbed your arm, waiting patiently for them to tell you about who the bad egg of the room was.

"And the old dude in the corner opposite to you?" Zoey started, glancing back at said old man in a corner, "That's Bill. Never not take him seriously."

Louis once again decided to add an extra fact, "He's just a little rough on the edges- and he wants whats best for the group."

Zoey spoke up, "And he's a veteran."

With all things said and done- facts spoken and introductions given- the four of you stood in an awkward silence.

In the midst of it, your hunter shifted closer to you, putting a leg out as though to step in front of you.

You quickly smacked his chest, to which he backed up against the wall with a quick snap of his jaw.

Zoey and Louis stood in wonder, eyes openly observing your hunter.

"Wow." Zoey spoke first, "Did you teach him that?"

Looking up to her, you shook your head, "Aha- I guess....?" You rubbed your arm again, "He just started picking up my gestures one day. Though pushing him backwards is pretty straightforward."

Zoey nodded, muttering another 'wow' before glancing to him. "You said he's not always like this-" she paused, looking back to you, "what was he like before... whatever it was went down."

Glancing to your hunter, you eyed him, small breaths beginning to even out.

"He didn't react at all." You started, looking to Louis, then Zoey, "But after a different survivor stabbed me in the back, he just kinda..."

You made a crushing movement with your hands, "Starting acting more clingy. And aggressive to unknown things."

The red jacketed female just nodded rubbing her chin and looking to Bill, "Sounds to me like he has a good reason to be aggressive."

Bill huffed, clearly not letting up on his suspicions.

"Well," Zoey looked back to you, "Guess we'll leave you to it. Let you adjust to being around people that won't stab you in the back."

With one last wary smile, the two turned and made their way back to the other side of the room. Seating themselves as they took a small break.

Back to quietly chatting to each other, Francis soon joined them, all the while shining his shotgun.

They were nice. They kept to themselves respectfully, albeit a bit warily.

Bill, on the other hand.

Bill clearly didn't like your ragtag group. He kept eyeing you, slouching in the corner and letting off small puffs of smoke. He was as persistent as he was old, which is a bold thing to say when not knowing his age.

Despite that, you could tell he cared for his group members, so a small bit of respect was still held for him no matter how trigger ready he was.

Feeling a set of claws rest on your shoulder, you glanced to your hunter. Still standing tall and protectively. Despite that, he looked more relaxed then when you first came in.

Peering at his claws, you spoke, "Yeah- me too buddy."

Sighing, you slid to the floor, letting your head hang as you waited. Your hunter followed your example, and crouched down.

For what you both waited for?

You weren't entirely sure.

Did you want to stay with another group?

They didn't give you bad vibes, despite the rough greeting- and they were heading to the same place...

They wanted to be rescued, just like you- and some of them even vouched for you, despite not knowing who you were.

You definitely wouldn't be opposed to tagging along with them.

Grabbing one of your hunters claws to get his attention, you watched as he jolted, a bit startled by the sudden contact.

Once he settled and looked firmly at you, you smiled and said, "I like em."

He just rumbled out a soft noise, looking to the two hands on his claw with a contented quirk of his lips.

Keeping your hold on his hand, you sighed, slunching into his personal space and taking several glances towards the other group. The persistent rub of your thumb against his hand was helping to calm your nerves, as they continued to spike at the thought of Bill shooting either of you.

Not you.

Not him.

And not now.

And you were glad for that fact, yet still wary.

Another swipe of your thumb against the back of his hand.

Crusted blood flaked off with every swirl, and the more you felt the contrast of skin and blood, the more he seemed to rumble.

Bill cut you train of thought off with his voice, grabbing everyone's attention, "We're takin' a break right now- and seeing as you haven't left yet-" He threw his head in your direction, "Then I'll have to assume you're wanting to tag along."

"Well, tough luck-"

"We'd love to have you!" Louis grinned, cutting Bill off with a wave of his arm.

Bill let off a deep, long, and utterly annoyed sigh, before glancing up at you, glare on hand, "Alright- there are some rules."

You didn't say anything releasing your hunter's claw and looking Bill head on.

"Keep that thing at least two feet from any of the group members."

Francis stopped shining his shotgun, glancing up at you for about the first time. He scoffed, looking back down, "I could take them both."

"And get hurt." Zoey chimed.

Francis rose an eyebrow, "And come out looking fucking awesome, is what you mean to say."

Bill coughed, sourly watching as they interrupted his speech.

"Hurt." Zoey persisted.

Louis chuckled, covering his mouth with his hand.

It was pleasant to see that people could still have jokes in a time like this. Enjoy each others presence, despite it all.

Finally, Bill cut in, "If he hurts any of us- consider your little friend expired."

Swallowing, you nodded, turning your head away from his stare like it was acid.

A few moments of awkwardly looking away, and you forced yourself to look him in the eyes, taking in a shaky breath, "I'll try my best, sir."

One last harrowing look from Bill and he spoke.

"Take five everyone, we'll move out after we catch our breaths."

So, with everything settled, and your place within the group established, no matter how untrusted- you felt yourself relax. In turn, your hunter relaxed almost as if understanding your body language.

He let out a quiet and happy trill, moseying closer, his thigh shifting to touch yours. Not bothering to stop him, his legs pressed close to yours in with a comforting warmth, again happily rumbling.

The whole group glanced up as he made the noise.

"Uuh..." Francis started.

"Was that....?" Zoey interrupted.

Coughing into your fist you nodded, a blush rising to your features at their inquiring gazes.

"Yes- he uh..." you glanced at the he in question, "He does that."

Louis let out a laugh, "Wow- I never heard a hunter make that sound before!"

Zoey nodded her head, "Yeah- haha- it sounded really happy."

You did a double take at what they said.

Sounded happy.

Sounded...

Happy...

So all those times you called yourself crazy...

All those times you assumed it was just a hallucination...

It really... did have emotion behind it?

The brainless infected you had been lugging around could actually feel the complicated and intense emotions that someone such as yourself felt?

Understand the feeling of grief and remorse, understand your sadness- or at least remember what happened before all of this... went down.

You cut yourself off.

Let's not be hasty- a stranger can't possibly know if he actually is happy or not- they haven't been around him enough.

The nagging thought rose in your mind.

'But I'm not a stranger.'

And yet

'I feel like he's happy.'

Shaking your head with a harshness to it, you forcefully removed the thoughts from your head.

You were just still in the grieving process.

Looking to the hunter, you eyed the small quirk of his lips as he trilled out another pleased rumble, pressing his shoulder into your own.

That's what it had to be.

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are sad- hunter boi makes it worse and better at the same time


	9. Chatper 9: The Understanding

Spending time sitting against the floor was in not something you would like to keep doing.

It gave a momentary break, yes, and the calmness of it was appreciated, but the hard floor made your butt sore.

Your legs were itching to keep moving- keep being used for their one and only purpose.

The hunter beside you didn't at all seem to care about your anxious want to walk. Every content rumble he made, and the occasional rub of his chin against the top of your head, and he appeared all the ready to keep sitting there in your presence.

Admittedly, he wasn't so bad when he wasn't trying to rip your throat out, but thinking that immediately reminded you that you convinced this group of survivors that he wasn't a threat.

Which he most definitely was.

The bite mark on your arm was more then enough to prove that. Walking left him nippy and albeit passive, but if any of them tried to run, they'd be exchanging greetings with the floor.

And he'd be exchanging greetings with twenty or so lead bullets.

Bringing your head into your hands with a hefty slunch of your back only made the ever pointed glare more prominent feeling.

Bill did not help your mental state.

With a small groan of boredom, you leaned backwards, looking up to the busted ceiling.

As if insulation and cracked tiles could help you.

Waiting for the break to be over was the only thing you had running for you.

And wait you did.

Twelve- maybe fourteen minutes you waited? Every so often adjusting position to help alleviate the soreness you felt. The three more sociable group members were relatively quiet, only every once and a while striking up conversation.

But, in due time, Bill spoke up, gaining the group's attention. His gun, ever in his grip, was raised in a more battle ready position, and he pushed himself off the wall.

"Alright- breaks over. We need to keep moving if we want to make it in time."

A choir of shuffling bodies and clicking guns followed after, no noises of disagreement made. Bill clearly assumed the leading position in this group.

Slowly making your way up, you stretched your legs, feeling the soreness in them only increase as blood flow was once again regained.

You pushed through, walking closer to the group with a gentle clang of the hunter chain.

"Aye!"

You stopped in your tracks.

"Two feet away- I'm watching you."

Not needing to be told twice, you began to back up, but Bill spoke again, "Your walking in the front of the group- can't have your damn hunter pull a quick on."

Immediately redirecting yourself to the door, you stood cautiously in front of it, watching as the others made a line behind you, Bill at the front, and keeping a clear distance from you.

"Before we leave, I just want you to know that..." you paused looking to the hunter crouched at your feet, "He clears the way for me, so please don't shoot at any infected close to me."

The three behind Bill instantly seemed more interested, but Bill's stone cold face contrasted with his permanent seriousness.

"Of course." Louis was the first to speak, Zoey agreeing soon after, "Sure."

A small silence passed the room.

"Don't tempt me."

Everyone stood deadly still, craning necks to look at the source of the voice.

With a several double takes at Francis, you all but burst into laughter, "Oh My God- HAHA- You sound like my dad!"

Zoey and Louis joined into your guffaws as soon as the words left your mouth, looking to Francis as though him ever possibly being a dad was the most absurd thing they'd ever heard.

Francis didn't at all seem offended by the laughter, the small quirk of his lips was if anything speaking of amusement- or maybe pride that he spurred everyone into laughing this hard.

"Alright- admittedly I am the hot and badass dad type- but let's settle down now ladies."

Louis let out a small noise of protest, before chuckling some more, and all of your laughs had begun to subside.

Bill, while unhappy looking, didn't interrupt the groups joyful moment- understanding that moral is important and that having -admittedly- that cheery of an atmosphere was a pleasant thing to be around.

He simply huffed, letting the sharp pointedness to his voice drop into a softer tone, "Alright, alright, settle down, we need to keep moving."

You smiled, unlatching the door with a bit of fumbling and craning the metal coated wood back.

The infected outside had clearly heard the laughing, and were already there to greet you, but the moment they set foot in the room, your hunter had worked his magic of flaying their bodies.

A bite there, and rip there, and five to six bodies lay in the door.

Blood was once again smeared all over his chin, and quite suddenly the group became rather intense feeling.

They all, aside from Bill, looked a bit nervous. Nervous that he could easily rip a leg off- or just as easily rip out a vital artery.

"Ha-... haha- so yeah." You said, looking from the pile of bodies and back to the survivors, "That's how I've survived so long on my own."

Your foot made the first tentative steps over the pile, hunter carelessly treading over them and after you.

"He's saved me from a smoker once- damn slimy things."

The group was still silent.

Twisting your head to look back at them, dread was already beginning to boil in your stomach.

Was there too much blood?

Was he too aggressive?

Are they going to hurt him?

They can't hurt him- we've come too far.

The grip on your gun tightened as you met with their eyes.

Do I-...

Do I need to take them out before they take us out.

You swore Bill could almost read your mind- the crouch in his body and the way he eyed the look that had smeared itself across your face.

He knew.

"Convenient." Zoey chirped, any previous tension that had built up shattering around you as your grip loosened.

It was safe.

But Bill had known.

He just had to have known what you were thinking.

"Yup." You tried your best to chirp back to the red jacketed female, "Definitely."

He read your face like book- and everything about your previous expression was dipped with the readiness to kill.

Without farther ado, you turned back around and took in the sights.

The subway was wrecked, floor caving in and leaving a gaping hole to the next room below us.

There were a few fires burning on the small pieces of flammable parts still left, and in general everything was in shambles.

You hovered near the edge looking down the hole.

You really didn't want to jump down.

What if you twisted an ankle?

Or what if it would lead to a dead end?

"Just jump."

Bill's gruff voice reminded you, and for a few uncertain seconds you kept looking down.

Without further ado, you sat on the edge and let yourself slide off.

With unwavering loyalty, your hunter followed, chain thankfully not getting stuck on anything.

When your feet made contact with the ground you could feel your weight jolt your knees, but thankfully nothing hurt.

The two or three infected that were still straggling behind charged you. Out of reaction, you shot one, but strolled past as the other two were quickly swept up with a growl and swing.

You took one last glance up at your group, before making your way towards the stairs. You didn't bother to wait for them to jump.

They have to keep moving, so they'd do it eventually.

Well enough, you heard Bill make the jump.

Soon after Zoey.

Then Louis, and Francis lastly.

As long as you didn't focus on the noises they made, it almost felt like it was just you and your hunter. Up against the world.

It was a calming thought.

Bleck- why did you think that.

Down steps, past the baffle gates, and eventually back up another set of stairs to where the subway tracks were.

Even just the small shooting from the group's guns at the various infected was blowing your eardrums out.

They clearly didn't know what stealth was.

There were so many infected in such a short amount of time, and you swore it was from the excessive gunfire.

You couldn't put it against them, they were defending themselves without the use of a hunter, but the constant ringing was a surefire way to go deaf.

Your companion didn't take to it all that much either. He'd flinch and jolt around every time their bullets flew, even going as far as to scratch at his ears.

You put up with it, and pushed onward.

From atop the train, a few hacking coughs were released, smoke oozing off of a tall figure.

You let out a short call, "Smoker!"

Bill was the first to respond, raising his automatic and letting off a few spurts of bullets.

Sure enough, a wheeze of smoke burst out into the subway, blurring your vision as you walked through it.

With all the noise, and all the infected, it couldn't be left up to your hunter to take things out. The gun in your hands was frequently raised and fired, taking out bodies that slipped past your hunter.

"I hate trains." Francis's voice was faint from so far behind.

Pursing your lips, you kept walking, making your way onto the train, your hunter jumped atop the seats, crawling and sniffing around. You kept walking, glancing back as the group paused, waiting for your hunter to keep moving.

Bill being Bill.

Turning forwards, you rolled your eyes, stepping off into the train tracks with an 'oof' at the drop distance.

To little to late you supposed.

The gurgling blubs of noise that lingered just outside the train wasn't recognized until after you dropped.

One moment your looking back, the next your turning to see a mass of bubbling flesh, the smell that wafted out of the mutated body was gag worthy as you all but chocked on the smell itself.

You didn't have enough time to defend yourself from what it did next.

It vomited, all over you, grime sticking to you with its fowl odor.

Backing away from the source, you hit the pavement with the back of your calf, nearly falling as as you tried to wipe the puke off your blinded eyes.

No amount of smearing and rubbing was helping, if anything it seemed to make it worse.

You heard gunshots, the sound of an fleshy explosion.

Even more puke splattered onto you, and by this point you had all but backed yourself against a wall, eyes closed as you tried to wipe it off your face.

The screaming that came after, gods above, the hoard's battle cry shot a chill down your spine.

Four bodies stood around you, steady and waiting, a comforting barrier between you and the source of screaming and yelling. The large body crouched by your side did the most comfort.

By the time the puke started evaporating, the horde had already descended, gunshots being fired out into rows upon rows of infected.

Your clearing vision allowed you to firmly grasp the situation. The survivors were protecting you. Putting trust into both you and your hunter and showing their backs to you.

It was eery how practiced their actions looked, yet even more chilling was your hunter.

His face was deadset and locked on you.

Lips neutral, eyes barely showing a glisten of light as he stared at you through shadows.

A trail of goosebumps rose on your arms. His slow exhale reaching your partially damp skin with a strange edge.

It was in the atmosphere- in the way he intensely focused- in the way his muscles clenched with a noticeable writhing movement of his body.

He was uncomfortable- yet really, really, really not.

You felt like... in simple terms, prey. A predator, standing before you, yet stuttering.

Was it the smell? You didn't know their bile affected the special infected.

It couldn't-

It didn't the last time you got vomited on.

So why was this time different.

It was over before your hunter had time to react, the survivors turning to you and examining your damage, which, other then a scraped calf, was nothing.

A huge mass of bodies lay behind them, proof of their killings.

"Are you alright?" Zoey asked, Louis following up with a, "Didn't twist anything?"

Your response was quick, gaze flickering between all of the staring faces, hunter included, "Naw- I'm fine, just a bit surprised."

You expected Zoey to be the one to extend a hand. Offer help when sitting down on the ground so haphazardly.

Instead, Bill was the first one to reach, gruffly shoving his arm in your direction. He didn't say anything- not even as you took his offered palm and rose to your feet. He merely grunted, smoke spilling past his beard as he gestured for you to keep moving.

Obeying, you walked around him, feeling your hunter stick unnecessarily close to your legs, tripping you up as you walk. Bill eyed the both of you, careful watch not going unnoticed. Your hunter, looked back at him, huffing a strange sort of barky growl as he continued to keep stepping on the back of your heel.

Enough was enough, and you shoved him with your leg, forcing him to give you distance.

The look he gave you was the intense one he gave you during the boomer bile incident, quivering with a look of such intense want.

Walk it off.

That's what you're doing.

And that's what you did.

Kept walking, and ignored his strange facial expression.

There was a door, with stairs that lead up to an opening, and you had no hesitation as you continued, walking through the stone threshold and through a dark room with support pillars all lined in even patterns.

Subconsciously you reached your chained hand up, scratching at the back of your neck. The recoil that came afterwards was a surprise.

You had forgotten about the indents from his bite on the back of your head.

So much so- that your small scratch drew a bit of blood from the still healing scabs.

Before the survivors could see, you wiped it onto your pant leg, smearing your blood onto your already partially bloody clothing.

God- now your neck stung.

And thinking about your stinging neck made you think about your stinging arm. Which was getting more painful the longer you thought about it.

You felt your hunter close by, the warmth of his shoulder rubbing against the side of your leg. So much warmer then the air around you.

He puffed through his mouth, taking a deep breath in as he sniffed. You could tell he was still staring, just from the sheer intensity radiating off of him.

Still, you pressed forwards, reaching a set of steps and making your way up them rightfully.

Honest to goodness you had stopped paying attention to your surroundings, so slipping on the puddle of half dried blood was just a little bit predictable of you. It was a quick fall.

A scary predictable- as falling backwards down flight of steps was not an every day want or need.

One second your standing- the next your stomachs in your throat, dread is pooling in your gut- and your falling. Backwards. At an alarming rate.

A very loud growl ripped it's way through the stairway, echoing with a higher pitched and almost shocked tune to it. Two firm arms frantically wrapped around you, one swiftly curling around your gut, and the other around your waist. They pulled you, stabilized you against a broad chest, and kept you from falling.

You froze, heart pounding against your chest as your body remained stock still and tense. No movement. Only the huffing of your chest, and the loud beats of your heart.

You glanced at the arms holding you, finding duct taped hoodie sleeves and bloody claws.

His breathing, originally calm, began worsening, churning out ragged breaths as he pulled you closer to him, burying his nose into your shoulder with a stuttering chuff of hot air.

His grip grew stronger the longer he held you, tightening and tightening- a python coiling about its prey.

When his claw began to dig into your hip was when true worry seeped into you, flinching as he nuzzled his face into your neck with yet another shuttering gust. The warmth of his breath was frighteningly pleasant feeling- and the graze of his teeth were reminders of your arm.

Pushing against his wrists didn't do as much as you would have liked, grip iron clad with strength and steeled with resolution. If anything, pushing made you weaker, as your injured arm stung with the tried use of muscle.

He shook, with the same intensity he had stared at you with.

The survivors behind you clicking their guns as they were unsure on how to address the situation.

Your hunter rumbled, chest shaking your bones with vibrations as he curled in on you.

His arm clenched one last time, claws digging into your hip, before he released.

You took a few fast steps away, standing higher up on the steps and past the pool of blood that started this mess.

He looked...

Almost unsure.

Almost afraid.

Claw to his face, the tips dipped in the smallest amount of your blood.

He deeply frowned, distraught over something you clearly didn't get.

"Goddammit- keep moving- we don't have time to wait like this."

The angry tone of Bill's voice flipped a switch in your hunter, a snarl ripping out past his lips like the belt of a motorcycle as he swung around to look at Bill.

He slowly stepped back, holding out one arm as though to shield me from something.

How he can flip between intense cradling to aggressive growling so fast, you didn't know- you just knew you needed to calm his ass down.

Pressing a hand onto his shoulder, you lightly pushed, staring him down as he side eyed you. His lips were still bared- still defensive.

Pulling his hood down, you watched as his eyes continued to glance between you and the group.

Unsure.

Uncertain.

But damn well ready to rip a throat out should the need arise.

Tugging on his hoodie, you curbed him in you direction, trying your best to force him to stop facing the group. The most he did was lean towards you.

Never backing down, never turning his head completely.

Think.

What could somehow convey comfort to his mind.

His thinly layered, yet maze like mind, filled with animalistic instincts- tendencies- and full on actions.

When was he the most calm.

Never.

When nothing's happening.

But everything's happening right. now.

When is he least aggressive?

When does he switch between defensive and caring.

It's always after interacting with you- it's always...

Something!

Goddammit think- think- think

What's the key- what's the answer- what's the switch that flips him!

Bill is cocking his gun.

Bill is ready to kill.

The group is ready to kill.

Your hunter is ready to kill.

In every situation your hunter is ready to kill.

Snapping your jaws conveys annoyance-

In a ditch effort you snapped your jaw at him- and he grew tenser, shuffling closer to you to act as a veil.

It doesn't work if he's this tense-

Fuck-

There has to be something through body language that can tell him to stop.

In every situation- the key components are you- him- and....-

Shit!

What are you missing!

The gentleness that he had when he helped you down the steps.

The patience- it's always in moments that...

...

...

Like the way a clock's gears spin, the way water rushes through holes and leaks-

It all suddenly clicked.

The missing piece of the puzzle finally falling into place.

There was no third variable.

In every situation that he's switched rapidly between the both of his different personalities, you've been there. Every time he shows annoyance- and happiness- and all the in betweens- you've been there.

When sitting atop that rooftop, curled into his body in your own weakness, he didn't display any hostile behavior. Which had somehow transferred to his helpfulness.

Being close seemed to snap him out of fits- on several occasions-

And while you weren't sure why- you knew what the result was.

Without farther delay or hesitation, you wrapped your arms around his broad chest, face pressing into his back-

He tensed, arm lowering as he mentally studied your arms. The arms that were so much smaller then his own.

He refused to focus on your arms for too long, flickering between the group. He still had his metaphorical hackles raised.

You needed something that worked better. Something with a much bigger impact.

Yet another long shot rose to mind as you tried to force him to crouch just a bit more.

He did so incredibly more willing then before- shifting to look at you with that sultry look he always had.

You tugged him, pushing your face into the crook of his neck and rubbing a slow nuzzle.

You felt awkward- doing that. Feeling him all but melt into you as his forehead dropped down onto your shoulder. His claws rose, lightly draping themselves around the sides of your waist. He twisted his head, baring his neck to you.

Faintly you remember that one video about animal behavior. How showing necks or stomachs were signs of trust. Trusting that you won't attack where they were weak.

Stopping, you leaned away, looking the best you could at your companion.

He pulled you into him in one last bear of a hug, before releasing when you started to pull away.

He really was beginning to learning social ques. Instead of forcing you to stay in the hug, he released when you did. Normal social ques that anyone would have.

After he released you, he placed his hands upon each of your shoulders, looking at you with a still confused yet much calmer expression.

Glancing at the group, still standing on the steps with impatience and cation airing about them, your face burned red with embarrassment.

You straightened, gently pushing his claws off you before turning around and continuing to walk.

The tips of your ears had never felt warmer as you grumbled back to the group, aiming more specifically at Bill, "Sorry- He's still on edge with you guys."

You didn't add anything else to your explanation, simply leaving them to stew in silence.

They said nothing- and the only movement that told you they were still there was the wheezed cough coming from Bill as he puffed another breathe of smoke.

The rest of the way there you just tried to tune things out. Shooting when you needed to shoot, walking when you needed to walk.

With ease, the group had made their way to the next saferoom.

You were the first to idle on through, collapsing onto the worn blue couch that had ever so conveniently been placed in the safe room.

Your nerves were jelly with that intense of a situation, and having the full group just sitting and staring and waiting for you to finish up the strange interaction with your hunter, it was agony.

You guessed it was in the past though. Nothing you can do to change it.

With a small jingle of the chain, your hunter jumped up onto the couch beside you, spinning in a circle before heaving himself onto the cushions.

His head found a place in your lap, and just glancing at the mirrored position he had taken when turning, you almost couldn't bear it.

Shakily sighing, you placed a hand on his hood covered head, nerves twitching as you slouched into the couch.

"He got a name?"

The voice of Francis startled you.

Glancing up to look to the biker, your eyes were wide with how suddenly he spoke.

"Well?"

Coughing, you tried to cover how startled you'd been, instead looking to the floor as you found your words, "Well uh- I'm trying to separate what he was, from what he is now."

"What about a nickname?" Zoey chimed in.

You shook your head, "None. I've always just called him hunter in my head." Letting out a laugh you continued, "Which I guess is the equivalent of calling a dog, dog."

"What if we call him Blue Guy!" Loius started, glancing at everyone in the room to gauge their reactions.

"Loius-" Francis started, "That name sucks."

"What about Duck?" Zoey smiled, excited expression clear as day, "Like duct tape!"

Francis again immediately shot her down, "That sucks too-" He grinned, before raising his hands to make exaggerated gestures, "How's about.... Cruiser!"

Zoey blankly looked at him, "Francis- that's just a type of bike."

Loius laughed, raising a finger into the air, "Oh- Oh- how about Vaulter! Cause he can jump high stuff!"

"I like Duck." Zoey said, turning to look at the hunter sitting in your lap, "Hey Duck- what's up?"

You hunter didn't even turn to acknowledge her, he just simple, puffed a breath if air and kept resting his head.

Laughing at all the suggestions, you raised your hands up in a surrender position, "Haha- Woah- that's too many names-" placing your names back onto his head, "You all can call him whatever you want to- I don't mind."

Zoey put her arms in the air, "Woohoo! Duck is best name!"

Loius, forgetting his other names, raised his arms as well, "Duck the hunter!"

Francis frowned, crossing his arms sourly, "Cruiser is literally the best name- Its cool- catchy- and badass at the same time-"

Again, watching them all fight and argue was rather ridiculous, so you let out another short giggle.

Bill, who had also been watching, finally decided to speak up, temporarily shifting his gun into his armpit to pull out another cigarette.

"Alright gang. Rest up- we need to keep moving."

One end of the cigarette lit with his older one, he placed it in his mouth, inhaling, before letting out a large puff of grey smoke.

Bill always got the final statement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not edited oof  
take my chapters  
*toss*


	10. Chapter 10: The Limited Perspective

The first moment of her fall was horrifying.

She slipped-

She began her decent-

And I could just see what was going to happen-

A smash of her head against ground, falling and tumbling-

Until she wasn't.

I stood, bracing my legs against the steps, and snatching her out of the air faster and harder then I should have.

My arms wrapped around her-

Scared-

Of what just happened

Of what could have happened

Of all the many possibilities that could have harmed her-

But now she was here- with me, pressed up against me- the warmth she spread through my body was harrowing and lovely at the same time- sparks jumping into my skin- growing only stronger the longer and harder I pressed her into my chest.

Her neck was close to me-

So very close-

Everything needed to be closer-

Shoving my face into her neck was almost involuntary-

A deep breath-

Intoxicating scent-

Warm and delicate-

She was still there.

She was still very much alive-

She was still with me-

It was a relief.

But then that older male spoke.

Aggressive noise garbling through his mouth- past his flat teeth

Angry...

That was what I was.

I believe that is what I am.

Aching with a need to... bite.

Not bite- but

Something unfathomable to me.

These things.

These people.

They threaten me.

They threaten her-

Us.

I can feel it.

The jaggedness.

The stiffness of their arms.

The clicks of their metal contraptions.

Contraptions- metal-

All of it is familiar.

I know what they are- yet I don't.

So many things that I didn't know have been growing clearer.

Her.

My lifeline.

My shining star.

My guide

My safe.

She is safe.

Her actions are safe.

I need to keep her safe.

The marks I left on her arm scream at me for not doing just that.

She was upset with me- upset by me- upset by my actions-

Not safe.

The red pouring from her arm felt like acid in my mouth- her skin repelled my being

The dread I felt- the shame- the utter shame in knowing.

I did that.

I made her upset.

I made her defenseless.

I shouldn't do that again.

I wouldn't do that again.

I CAN'T do that again.

And no one else is allowed to do that either.

Not these beasts in front of me.

Not these figures- these people- these dangerous

Fidgeting- species- that reek of a fight- they were ready to kill-

Kill her

Kill us.

Wicked rumbles rolled through my chest-

Ready to defend- ready to fight

For her.

All for her.

Never let anything get to her-

She needs to be safe-

Safe

And

...

Protected.

...

She nudged at me.

I glance- I can't not glance at her.

I meet her eyes, the concern that goes through them.

The sheer and potent worry she oozes.

It hits my core- my chest- my heart

It clenches- in hurt- that if these savages before me do use their metal do fight- she wouldn't be safe.

I glance back at them. I glance to her, and back again.

She snaps her teeth-

I shuffle closer- to ease her worry-

Can't they see they're scaring her-

Do they even care that they are?

They clearly don't-

...

Imagine my alarm when she wraps those delicate arms around me.

So much smaller.

So much more fragile then my own arms.

I meagerly look at the difference.

The itch that ran beneath me

Chewing my skin- the burn- the ache- flaring ever stronger against me-

I shouldn't be indulging myself-

She was scared- she

She

Sh...

...

I heaved with a breathless voice of fury, growls forming in my mouth.

A warning- of what I wanted to do- could do.

Standing in front of her-

I would rip the red out of those people- I could and I would- but leaving her there would make her even more vulnerable- so I leaned into the comfort of her timid touch.

...

But then I felt her prod at my neck-

Her face pushing its way to my skin-

I was surprised-

Taken off guard-

Off put-

The way she nuzzled into my neck- so timid, and sweet- nervous-

The instinct in my gut molded my mind, twisting the agitation out, leaving only room for the comfort and burn she rubbed into me.

I turned to her- I needed to respond to her- to this-

To what she was providing- and the gentleness with which she did so-

Ignore them.

That's what she meant.

Pay no mind to their babble- their gruff and aggressive noises.

It's okay.

That's what she meant.

She was safe-

I folded onto her, limply standing, threading my arms around her waist, letting myself take in her scent- however tarnished it was by that foul and vile blob of acid.

I rubbed myself into her, trying to let my own smell rid her of the acidic stench, pulling my head back in a small flex of trust.

The burning sensation of her breathe was sent scuttling down my spine, and I tensed, tightening my hold.

I felt happy.

So pleasantly happy.

I wanted to take her into me- grab her- hold her- never let her go, spin her in a circle for no fathomable reason- anything to be closer- anything to never not be close.

...

What luck I saw.

I felt.

I noticed just how tight I was holding her- the tips of my fingers almost piercing her side-

Release-

Unwound my arms from her.

I can't keep hurting her.

A spare glance to the bite on her arm was more then enough reminder.

Not again.

No more.

I want her to be alive- with me- together.

As us.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah- another chappie on his perspective.


	11. Chapter 11: The Split

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wowee- big stuff is happening

Taking that small amount of time on the safe room couch wasn't one of the most satisfying breaks.

Being covered head to toe in boomer bile had been both disgusting and exhausting, and not being able to see if something was going to attack you- not knowing which silhouettes were friend or foe.

It left you dry of adrenaline, and letting yourself lay lifelessly on the couch like you were now just made you want to sleep even more.

Not to mention the smell.

It wasn't as bad as it was when it first hit, and now that it dissolved it's definitely better then before, but the small leftover scent lingered all over your body, etched into your clothes in a vague residue.

In the time that you sat there you had decided to pull out a small bag of stale swedish fish. Partially out of hunger, partially out of wanting to give your hands something to do.

The crinkling bag made most people in the group look at you- to which you offered some.

They were all happy to have sugar- excluding Bill- and it was nice to be thanked for sharing. As opposed to taking your food like it was mandatory.

Your hunter perked at the bag as well- drawn like a dog to treats. With him literally on your lap- it was hard to say no- so you'd toss a few his way.

When finished, the empty bag was tossed at him as well- bad idea on your part.

Not a moment later he had his head stuck in the plastic, wriggling around and nearly headbutting you when he freed himself.

It was strange to be so passive with him so close. Before this you would use force to keep him a safe distance away from you, but now? Here he was, resting his broad upper chest and neck in you lap. His legs, which you felt frightened to notice, looked even more bowed then before.

You weren't sure why they kept... bending.... like they were, but you hoped they weren't going to incapacitate him- or better yet pain him.

Either way, thoughts aside relaxing with him and weakly putting your trust so willingly out there was nice.

As was this break.

All breaks come to an end though- and with a hefty clunk of boots, Bill shifted from out of the corner to draw attention. His heavy voice was as commanding as it was the time before, "We're moving out everyone- grab your supplies."

Packing up, you took one last moment to look at the killer on your lap. He rumbled when your eyes met his, to which you nervously smiled before gently nudging him off your lap.

He complied- dropping to the floor in a stretch and a shake, patiently waiting for you to get up as well. You got up a bit more clumsily, fiddling with you gun, and fixing your backpack to keep everything in order.

With everyone standing and at the ready, the line was formed-you trotting in front of everyone with your usual anxiousness. Your hunter lumbered after you, tensing when you tensed, and pausing when you paused.

The mimicry felt like a form of comfort- he validated what you were feeling- validated that he would back you up when need be.

Even if you wanted to check up on all the straps on his chest and even wash his face- you didn't want to hold the team up, and unlocked the door.

No infected charged you, surprisingly.

Just a dark and damp alleyway.

Taking it in stride, you kept walking, hearing the team follow after. The soft jingle of the chain echoed through the alley, and quite soon you came upon an open back door to a food joint. Two infected lingered at the door, and it was easy to let your hunter take action.

Two smacks with his claws and they were out, and he took the liberty to crunch into one of their arms as he passed.

Walking through the small restaurant was a breeze as well, not many infected were there, and the group finally picked up on the whole 'being quiet thing.'

Your hunter did the brunt of the work, and if some got too close to the others, they'd give them a few quick shots.

When you got outside the food joint, you were at a bit of an impasse, looking at the unscalable building, and a fence that looked too tiresome to climb with guns.

Glancing back to the group for direction you asked the short question of, "Where we going?"

Bill did a quick look around, before just taking the lead. The fact that he trusted you that much made you feel pretty happy, so you followed.

"A lift huh?" Francis muttered.

"Seems like it." Bill replied.

"I hate lifts."

You couldn't repress your smile even if you wanted too. It was so uncharacteristically pleasant being in the company of these people. So much less tense then it was by yourself. Especially less tense then the first day it all went down.

Bill stepped onto the lift first, making room for others to get on. You waited to get on last, squeezing in on the end and trying your best to make room for your hunter.

It was a difficult task, mind you, but after enough struggling, he managed to get on, one leg almost off the side, and crunched into a ball because he was too stubborn to stand up.

Bill huffed at the lack of space, before smacking the button and starting the lift.

Oh god though.

After he pressed it- a loud beeping noise came from the lift, the whole thing whirring to life as it chugged to lift us all up.

If only you knew the future, as the screaming of all the infected you hadn't seen filled the streets, and you couldn't have wished more to be somewhere else then you were now. Your hunter made a quick flurried look towards you, feeling the unease that settled deep into you and immediately responding to the screaming with a scream of his own.

It was loud, ear piercingly so, and you felt everyone go more on edge then they were before with his unwelcome roar.

However aggressive it was, you knew the difference between his killing crys, and warning crys, wrapping the chain tighter around your wrist out of pure habit and sheer anxiety.

Bill climbed onto the building the minute the roof was remotely within distance, being the soldier he is and quickly grabbing Louis's hand to help him up.

This went the same for everyone, helping you up before the thing was even finished lifting. Your hunter jumped up no problem after you. Bill ran side by side with you, shooting at infected the best he could.

A nasty coughing noise was just barely heard over the sound of the hoard- screeching- and clawing their way up the building. By the time you recognized the tell tale sign of a smoker, it had already shot its deathly tongue.

Right around Bill's neck.

How convenient.

And how utterly terrifying it was to see him start to get tugged off the side.

He stumbled, tumbling backwards, gripping the noose around his throat, and you followed right along.

Rushing forward- stretching out your hand and grasping his own to keep him from falling off. The tug o' war battle that started with the smoker was painful for Bill, if his groaning was anything to say.

Straining everything to keep yourself on the roof, and trying to pull Bill back onto it was exhausting. The screeching only grew louder, sounds closing in faster and faster- the stress tugged at the pieces of your mind, you couldn't help but yell.

"SHOOT THE FUCKING SMOKER!" Your voice cracked.

A ghastly wheeze was heard over the harrowing sound of the hoard, over the sound of gunshots, and you still struggled at the edge of the building, tugging to get Bill back up but failing. The fall itself wouldn't be too deadly- but a sprained ankle would be life threatening, as would being swept away into the horde that just reached the ground below.

With one last huff, and Bill finally reaching a hand out to grasp the ledge, he heavily dragged his body back onto the safety of the roof. Or however safe the roof could be.

You forced him on his feet and hurried him along, barely being able to focus on the infected that were closing in, simply letting your hunter do his best and squirming to get Bill to safety.

When you climbed into the window after Bill, you glanced back, meeting your hunters chest as he pushed you farther into the room.

"Hey- I need to shoot too-" He kept pushing, and pushing, until you reached a shelf, and the strange behavior wasn't at all appreciated, as you immediately shoved back at him after the initial shock wore off.

"I have to help protect the group you idiot!" A few infected climbed through the hole through the floor, and you turned to meet them with your gun.

Your hunter stared intensely as you did this, tensing his claws where he stood and clearly flickering his gaze at every sound he heard.

Did.... did too much sound freak him out?

Abruptly, he ushered himself towards you once more, pushing you into his chest as he defensively puffed himself up. His head kept snapping towards the gun shots. The shelf behind you pressed into your calves, rooting you to your spot against him.

When another infected weaseled through, he turned to them, shoving you behind him a bit too harshly, before screeching his kill or be killed scream and pouncing that poor infected. All the nervous energy he had just built up started to be violently released against that things body.

Ripping, and tearing-

Unnecessary snarling and squelches of blood.

You stood, watching him- a bit disgusted at how prolonged his violent attack against the now dead body was.

The hoards screams began dying out to a few stragglers, and gun shots finally began to cease. Yet another fun fact you learned.

Too many loud sounds put him on edge. Too much overwhelmed him- psyched him out.

Good to know.

Making your way towards him, who mind you, was still tearing at a very dead body, you placed a hand on the middle of his back. He tensed, slowing in his tearing and crunching before letting his hands fall lips next to him.

The low rumbling in his chest shook your hand as he continued to stare into the body he just tore into.

That low rumbling matched with a happy tone, pleased- yet still vaguely uneasy.

You couldn't help but feel like he was taking comfort in your touch.

How he knew it was you, you weren't quite sure.

But you were glad he settled.

A vague cough came from Bill, drawing your attention as you remembered, that yes. You had been supposed to help the group.

Francis let out a long whistle, before speaking, "Damn- he ripped that freak like it was tissue paper." You stood to attention, looking at the group with a sweaty stare.

Louis let out a nervous chuckle, and you followed with a chuckle yourself, before subtly kicking your hunter.

He was jostled with the kick, to which he shuffled about and stood up, getting off the dead body and letting blood drip smoothly off his claws.

The first thing he did once standing was cling onto you, trying to force his face close to your neck in a pleased rumble. Despite his chin being covered in blood, you let him. God if you knew why. The vibrations from his chest felt pleasantly domestic, but that doesn't justify letting him rub human gore on your clothes, much less in your hair.

Brushing past him, you let him rest his left claws loosely around your forearm like a lost child. With a blank look, you glanced down the hole in the bottom of the floor. 

Bill strode up on your other side, giving your hunter a skeptical look, before following your eyesight into the hole. 

A dry chuckle flourished past his teeth, before he ruffly patted your shoulder.

No words, just a nod of his head before he walked off into the hole.

All three of the others came up to your side next, looking at you with a look similar to the one Bill gave you. Zoey pat your shoulder, "Thanks for putting yourself out there for Bill."

You read her like book. The wistful eyes, the weary smile. The sweetly tinged scent of sadness ruminating about her furrowed eyebrows. She was scared- scared of what could have just been lost.

She looked up to Bill, you concluded.

Father figure, perhaps.

Louis nodded at you, in confirmation of her word, before Francis ambled off the into the hole without much to say.

Louis followed next. Then Zoey herself.

Leaving you with your hunter. Still standing atop the hole.

This moment felt important. Deeply so.

Standing above a choke point, everyone else gone on without you. They're waiting for you. It would be easy to follow. But it would be just as easy to turn your back and leave.

You had the inkling that them, and you, and your hunter, had even bigger threats ahead you then just a smoker.

Bigger decisions, bigger consequences-

That thought was frightening, and you turned ridged.

Eyes still firmly looking down. You could hear the others grabbing supplies, and reloading guns. A faint, "PILLS HERE." was heard, as well as rushed footsteps to grab a container.

Your hunter tensed, chin pushed into your neck, eyes staring intensely at you. You turned to look at him, those dull green irises and dilated pupils as sultry as they ever were. His brows were drawn tightly.

With a shuddering huff of air, you relaxed your body, feeling him mimic you and relax.

Down the hole the two of you NEED to go.

So down the hole the two of you would go.

Walking towards it, you leaped down onto a pile of rubble, turning to face the group. Your hunter leaped after you, landing firstly on his hands, before his feet touched down in his signature crouch.

Bill was finished grabbing ammo, leaning against the door frame and keeping watch. Zoey and Francis were still reloading, and Louis was trying his best to fit a third bottle of pills on his belt.

"How many pills are you gonna use Louis?" was the first thing out of your mouth.

Louis just let out a strangled almost embarrassed noise, not stopping his attempts to put them on his belt.

"He's been like that since we first met up." Was all Zoey said, her pistols ready with full stocks of ammo.

Francis cocked his shot gun, walking over to Bill with a confident, 'This badass is ready.'

Zoey subconsciously followed, giving her pistols a once over.

You decided now would be a time as any to go grab some supplies, pulling your backpack off and dumping a small stack of the ammo in. You were conscious enough to leave a lot of it for other survivors that make it this far.

Your hunter rose, resting his claws and chin on the table. His eyes were turned towards the ammo, giving it a curious looking frown.

Giving his head a quick pat, you pushed him off the table- a sinking suspicion that he would try and eat the ammo forcing your hand.

You followed the other two's lead with a quick reload, stopping as you reached them, before looking back at Louis.

Still struggling to carry more pills.

The whole group was watching him at this point, to which he glanced up, before huffing and throwing the pill bottle to Francis.

"Hah- told you it wouldn't fit." Was what he smugly muttered, clicking it onto his belt and following Bill out the door.

It was strange to see Louis so salty, but you could see the annoyance already starting to fade. Back to his chipper self you supposed.

Chipper indeed, as not a moment after you began walking down a hallway, Louis started humming a small tune. Honestly it was quite catchy, and you resisted the urge to join him in his happy hum.

Down the steps, and towards a storage room the group lumbered, to which all of you walked to the opposing side.

There was a door that lead to the alleyway, and from the alleyway into another warehouse type building. You all trudged into it, following the safe house markers in whichever direction they decided to point.

Down steps, and straight into a dead end of a room. Boilers were uniformly lined row after row. Bill took a moment to glance around, shooting the two infected that darted for him.

He gave a glance downward. At a sewer lid.

You immediately decided you weren't going in there.

___

You went in there.

The irony.

Louis jumped in first with the cheer that literally no one could have- Francis was pushed in grumbling- Bill went in like a stone cold leader, and Zoey just carefully dropped herself down- looking a bit disgusted.

And then there was you.

You stood- again looking down through the choke point.

With everything in your body you refused to go down there- but- you had to.

Sitting down on the edge of the sewer hole, you slowly let yourself slide down, until you full on slipped down, hitting the pipes first before falling a little bit further and onto a small patch of surprisingly dry pavement.

Your hunter charged after you, skipping the first set of pipes and immediately landing next to your motionless body. A long low whine echoed in his throat- almost concerned with hiw drawn out the noise sounded.

You glanced at him- watching as his eyes flickered all across your body.

His brows furrowed and he gently clawed at the edge of your hoodie. His claws were too sharp for the fabric- and the force he put into tugging at you sliced four jagged lines into the hoodie.

You squinted at him, batting his hand away to stop his prodding before sitting up- grabbing the gun you dropped and standing to your sore feet.

Your hunter stood with you, one hand hovering near your back and the other clutching your arm.

You warily glanced at him.

You dreaded to say it.

But if you let yourself think just enough- it was incredibly cute how much he was trying.

Trying for what you still couldn't place. You refused to place, but just the same you recognized his actions.

Choking the smile off your face, you looked to the group, trudging up to them and letting them know you were good to keep moving.

Admittedly, the sewers were disgusting, but after enough crawling around (and finding yet another bottle of pills which Louis shoved down his shirt) the group came across a ladder.

The lid at the top of the ladder was open, and just from below you could hear the groans of infected. You tensed. And your hunter stiffened with a small yet dangerous drag of his claws on the ground.

It felt like a tough fight was ahead of you, and Bill seemed to think the same thing. He shot the group a harsh look, before clicking his gun.

"I'll go first." He whispered, full well knowing that going first meant getting a horde of claws on him.

Interjecting almost immediately, you held up a chained hand, "I'll go first. I have an extra set of claws."

He squinted at you, almost wanting to say something against your idea.

A few more seconds of uncomfortable eye contact and visible thinking, and he huffed, stepping away from the ladder to make room for you.

You slung your gun onto your back, grabbing the first metal ring of the ladder and taking one last glance at the group.

And up you went. Rung by rung- quietly up the ladder until you peeked your head just enough to glance out onto the street.

Your eyes went wide with all of the shuffling infected.

Quietly rushing to get out onto the streets, you felt dread drop into your gut. Your hunters wasn't even that far away- but after consistently knowing that he was behind you, the tension was multiplied by outrageous amounts.

Come on- come on- an infected spotted me- I'd have to use my gun- and that means they're all gonna be on me.

Grabbing your gun, you fired at the single infected that ran at you. Tensing and clenching your fingers- feeling your heartbeat rhythmically grow faster and faster.

A gust of air blew from behind you, claws clawing against the ground and a deep snarl vibrated against your spine.

You were scared- of just how many there were- all the prying eyes that turned to stare.

You didn't mean to do it, but before you could process the action, you had already flung your gun across the ground.

The air behind you stilled, coiling. tighter and tighter- so tight that the intensity felt like a bottle.

Until it popped.

A bone shaking screech- roar- noise- shook your lethal companion.

He felt him brush past you, charging into the first living thing he set eyes on. His claws sunk deep- bite even deeper- tearing and shredding every body he could get his talons on.

You scurried to grab your gun, dodging a few aimless snarling infected. A few managed to clench onto your hoodie, ripping the cloth and slowing you down.

When you finally managed the pick your gun back up, several infected were clawing at you, one grabbing at the arm your hunter had bitten into, forcing you to wince as you pulled the trigger on them Bill and Zoey were out of the sewers, trying to force their way through the horde as Louis and Francis made their way up.

You kicked, and punched and shot the best you could, getting clawed endlessly. The chain on your arm tugged at you, jerking and jerking, shifting directions and pushing infected over with the force of the pull.

Your hand felt sore with all the power jolting it, arm socket even more sore.

When you managed to connect with the rest of the group, the tugging only grew worse, and try as you might, anxiety only swept deeper into your systems.

Shooting with shaky aim, you wobbled your way through the horde.

Every once and awhile reaching out to balance yourself on one of the group members.

It hurt so much.

The nails clawing at you, the infected racing towards you.

You lost sight of your hunter during the fray, solely using the chain to know that he was okay.

Alive and killing as one would put it.

But then it stopped.

Harsh tugging and pulling all.

One moment the chain was taunt, and the next it fell limply to the ground in a jingling and cheery splat against the ground.

Nothing could match how you felt.

The overwhelming floodgate of stress, and shock jolted numbly at your mind.

The chain was gone.

He was gone.

Oh god-

You froze, nearly succumbing to the foreboding and only growing pile of emotion.

A piece of you felt gone-

Just like when you held him in your arms-

Just like when he turned-

Just like when he left you-

You could feel tears welling in your eyes, one of the group members noticing you lagging, and grabbing your arm to force you to keep up.

You just knew you'd never see him again.

God-

Another gun shot.

Shit-

Hurried steps ever closer to the safe house.

Fuck-

The door closed behind the group, countless infected slamming against the metal door just as it was closed and locked.

You remained motionless, breathlessly heaving, and furiously wiping at your face as though that would make any of your tears vanish.

You felt so hurt- and lost- and everything kept piling into an ever higher mountain of frustration.

You shook your arm out of Francis's grip, face scrunching as anger festered inside of your chest.

Stumbling, you caught yourself on a wall, staring at the ground before all but growling as you thought of everything you could have done different.

You could have checked his harness to make sure it was secure.

You could have not chickened out and used a stupid fucking kill command.

Reeling your arm back, you punched the closest thing to you, hand slamming into the countertop with a heavy thud.

"God- Fucking-" You reeled your fist back up before slamming it back down with everything you had, crumpling onto the counter, "...Fuck this...." You groaned.

At this point you didn't care what the group thought of you. It hurt- so so much- your chest ached with the need to have him back.

...Isn't that what you did the first time he left...

The first time he turned you just couldn't let go-

Of course you had to make it worse by holding on for longer- for forcing him next to you when he wasn't even who he used to be.

Shakily, you reached into your pocket, blearily peering through your tears to type in your phone password to click the photos app.

The last thing you took a picture of was him. Or- well- with him.

He looked so frail in that one, paler- the cold sweat visible even through the inquisitive face he had put up.

You hugged the phone to your chest before looking back at the group.

They stared.

You stared.

Into the abyss- into the void of emotions you couldn't help viewing despite how much you wished to turn away.

You fell to your knees, clutching your phone and turning your wobbling gaze to the floor.

You should've let go when you had the chance.

.

A few minutes past like that.

The group went about, attending to their guns and supplies.

The tension was high, so much so that Louis kept his chipper thoughts to himself.

Zoey coughed, and Bill would huff another puff of smoke.

No one seemed to know how to approach.

And you were fine with that.

You just continued to stare at your phone, flipping through pictures of who he used to be. What you lost a week ago- and what you should have already made peace with.

A body plopped down next to yours.

The tattoos in your peripherals told you it was Francis.

He seemed the only one who could brave the intensity of the situation. Or maybe he just paved the way for the others, as not a moment later, both Zoey and Louis plopped down on the other side of you.

You all sat in silence for a bit, watching you flip through more pictures before you turned your phone off entirely.

"Wanna talk about it?" Zoey whispered, quiet, and calm, reserved- yet open to understanding what you were going through.

You took a bit to respond, rubbing more tears out of your eyes before shrugging and mumbling out a small, "His name was Chris."

You did a double take, "Or well- his name is Christian. Everyone just called him Chris though."

Zoey hummed, and you watched bill take another drag of his cigarette from in the corner he leaned against.

You pressed a hand to your head, pulling your hair back with a crass motion, "Fuck- I don't know- He was my best friend- and I was too much of a bitch to kill him when he turned."

You turned to look at her, meeting her worried eyes with a small flick of nervousness, "It doesn't really matter."

Zoey threw an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in for a side floor hug, before releasing. She seemed to understand that you didn't want to talk about it. Which you were glad she did. Another word and you would have been bawling and cursing all over again.

Quite out of the blue, Francis punched your arm, saying, "Well- bitches can't keep hunters on leashes- so as far as I'm concerned your pretty badass." Before he stood up and acted like he never just tried to cheer someone up.

Zoey stood next, Louis following after giving you a quick pat on the shoulder and an encouraging smile.

You glanced up at the group.

.

Fuck.

These people are really nice.

.

And that isn't really a bad thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. That just happened. The boyo is now m i s s i n g  
had to do it to ya
> 
> Also this not edited


	12. Chapter 12: The Freakless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO I GOT A FANART- AND I LOVE IT LIKE WHAT??? ITS SO BEAUTIFUL  
ALSO- I HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA HOW TO PUT A PICTURE IN Ao3 CHAPTERS, SO I'MA JUST PUT THE ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL PICTURE I GOT IN MY QUOTEV AND WATTPAD CHAPTER
> 
> ANYWAYS- TAKE THIS STRESSFUL CHAPTER

You never felt deader.

Despite being at the hospital- despite being this close to freedom- any sort of joy you would have been feeling was zapped from your body.

It was you who forced the group to wait until the horde left.

It was you who had to see if he was still around.

You God damn checked to see if he had somehow still lingered. But no.

Whatever blood fueled rage he had gone into- he hadn't come out of. Swept away with the winds of wrath and hunger.

You nearly sobbed when all you saw were empty, red soaked streets- filled with lifeless pale bodies- none of which belonged to your hunter- which was equally a relief and a disappointment.

If you had found a dead body- at least you would have closure, however sad you would have been. Instead he was out there somewhere- and you felt so uncertain and scared. There was hope, which was crueler then grief, because hope dragged out the time in which you could berate yourself.

You stood outside- in the cold and bloody street. The group stayed with you comforting you as long as they could- even with their own freedom so close.

Eventually- even they couldn't stick around-

However much they tried to persuade you to keep moving forward-

However much nudging, and sweet talking, and urgency they spoke to you with-

You couldn't be moved.

An unshakable rock- formed from the malignant and ill disposed attachment you cemented onto that hunter.

The group left.

More importantly, HE left... and you forced yourself to harden- numbing yourself dangerously so.

Nothing mattered. Not without him. Not without your friend- your companion- your lifeline.

It took a few minutes of being alone until you moved your frozen legs. Your joints squeaked, and your heart throbbed beneath your chest.

With an assurance you were never more confident about, you decided that this sucked.

First your split up from your family- then you loose your friend- and then you loose the very same friend... again.

Huffing, you stopped your moving legs as you reached a dull chain. Broken, by the force of his jump, and out of habit you felt and scratched along your arm- as if to tighten it. But it wasn't there.

Looking closer, you noticed where you cinched and tied part of his harness. One of the ties had been broken, again, by the force of his jump.

You took a deep breathe.

Maybe you could find which direction he went in.

Glancing around- past guts and gore, you tried to pick out a trail. Something anything-

Scratches on a building that he might have climbed- blood leading away from the crime scene- hand prints from his incessant crawling.

You searched- and searched-

Scowering every last inch of that street before you caught the slightest clue of where he could have remotely wandered off to.

Just on the edge of the street- turning into the alleyway, small puddles of blood- and deeply set claw marks were imprinted on the ground like beacons to your weary eyes.

A single infected was laying on the ground, madly clawed- missing chunks a flesh and just barely still trying to reach for you.

The blood and claw marks reached over a metal fence- and with a huff, you threw your gun over the top, carelessly hoisting your body over after it.

The second your feet touched the ground, you snatched your gun up and kept following the slightest of clues you could.

So many twists and turns- a winding path that never seemed to find an end. Bodies were left in its wake- gore as common as the pebbles of the earth.

He was dangerous.

You always knew he was.

And yet this path of carnage- however many chills passed your spine- however much the small and fleeting instinct in your mind told you to run-

You followed after it.

No questions.

No qualms.

Just the patterned set of your footsteps against the ground.

You swore you'd find him.

_________

Harder said then done.

The trail had eventually just died out. No traces, no blood, and no bodies.

Most importantly, no Christian.

If you can even call him that anymore.

You can't remember how long you were meandering along in circles, sneaking past stray infected- killing when you needed.

The concrete grounds were becoming irritatingly familiar the longer you walked them, until out of frustration, you stopped following the same repetitive clues, simply walking out into the unknown.

The helicopter circling the city would pass every once and awhile- which meant the group hadn't made it yet.

You don't know whether to be relieved that you still have a chance, or sad that they haven't safely made it out of the city yet.

Regardless, you weren't attempting to reach them until you found him.

Seconds ticked on- a new side walk- a new slue of pebbles.

Something new happened.

Newer then the road.

Newer then the cars.

A noise- silent, and near indistinguishable against the white noise of the streets.

A scraping noise.

Like claws against cement.

You had hope- that perhaps the scraping noise was your hunter- but after several more minutes of consistent scraping as you walked the streets- you decided to blame it on your grieving head.

Of course you'd imagine you were hearing him crawling- slinking about as usual.

It persisted- farther and farther into your walk.

Eventually you couldn't take it- whipping around to see if you could catch a glimpse of something you knew it couldn't possible be.

Instead, your eyes caught an outline of something- hanging about on the rooftops, dipping out of view the moment you spotted it.

Three possibilities popped into mind.

One, it's your companion- still strange because of the kill command. It's a hopeful and naive and stupid thought, yet the best possible outcome.

Two, you're grieving and just hallucinating shapes and sounds. Sounds likely enough.

Three. It's an infected. Special infected the worst option.

Alone, and without an extra set of eyes, you were a sitting duck. If you got caught- by anything- you wouldn't have any hope.

You couldn't help but grumble. Whatever it was up there- whoever was up there, was yet another uncertainty to add to your growing list.

Glaring one last time at the offensive building, you strutted off, determined in your search to find your friend.

You couldn't help but wonder if he thought about you. Did he wonder where you were? Did he actually have enough cognitive thought to wish you were there?

Striding around yet another alleyway, the consistent scratching noise above followed- and finally- you could say with surety that you weren't hallucinating.

Another glance upwards and you caught the edges of a hoodie slinking out of sight.

....

You couldn't tell if it was him or not. Too quick of a glimmer, too fast of a glance.

It couldn't be though.

Maybe it could be.

Huffing, you picked up pace again, turning onto another street. The scratching followed, briefly pausing before picking up on the building closest to you.

Oh gosh dammit.

Not pausing, you kept a brisk pace, listening to the noise above you.

A growl ripped through the air, passively and smoothly shaking you. It wasn't that loud- wasn't that quiet. Just enough to solidify any more questions about what was following you.

Great.

A hunter.

Maybe not even your hunter.

Turning around, you looked to where the growl came from.

Finally enough hoodie showing to let you know who it was.

Definitely not your friend.

It wore a completely grey hoodie- no blue hues in sight. The small pattern in the center only solidified it wasn't him.

Strange that he's revealing himself now.

With a small thought- you remembered that yes, you had a gun. And yes, you should probably shoot.

Another glance up at him and you realized that oh. He looks like he's about to pounce.

You didn't need another thought to immediately raise your gun- giving a good spray of bullets- which he dodged and continued to keep his body pressed in a jump and kill pose.

Not a moment later, he flung himself off the building, directly towards you- a loud and piercing screech flung out of his teeth lined mouth.

You've had more then a few tango's with a hunter, and with executed precision, you dodged, looked at where he was crouched. The bleeding in his calf told you that not all of your bullets missed him- and you barely got another thought in when he sprung up again.

Just as before, you sidestepped him, watching him skid on the ground before raising your gun and giving another good spray of bullets.

He almost did a cartwheel with how fast he sprang to the side- like a cat and a cucumber he just barely missed several shots to the head and chest.

Not stopping from his initial jump, he boosted himself toward the building, hitting the side and immediately using it to jet boost himself toward you.

Admittedly, you were impressed he had some tricks up his sleeve.

But with yet another dodge of his attack- and him proceeding to dodge your bullets- you decided to leave this mess of a fight.

Giving another couple shots in his direction- you heard a yelp and immediately took off down the alleyway you came out of.

It didn't take long for a faster and much more loud scratching noise to begin, following your running with ease- despite the very clear limp in the footsteps and clawing.

Ducking and dodging down alleyways that looked very familiar, you knew it was back towards mercy hospital- only going this way out of the fact that having knowledge of what was there would give you an advantage.

That- or if you ran far enough- his blood loss would eventually deal him in.

You ran and ran, farther and farther until you could barely keep moving.

With a hefty clunk of your boot, you flipped yourself around to scower the buildings for that estranged hunter. Your breaths were heavy.

Sure enough, he had just finished jumping from one building to the next, landing and giving you a poignant stare. The blood lust on him was insatiable- all but seeping off of him and sending a chill down your spine.

A faint and angry roaring was heard in the distance- loud and angry huffing that you tuned out to focus all your attention on the grey figure.

Any moment and he would jump. Any moment and you would shoot.

Deeply inhaling, you exhaled as calmly as you could, giving him your hardened stare- a brash look filled with the malice you harbored inside of you. He flared his nose in a loud chuff, indignantly clenching the building's roof tighter. So tight that the claws scraped an indent into the concrete of the building.

You couldn't be bothered by the fact that he chose to play into your stare down. Neither by that angry huffing that got louder and louder from some distance behind you.

Instead, you lifted your gun, shooting and watching as he leaped off and into the alleyway before you. He sat, crouched a good few feet away from you, haunches tense.

He didn't pounce directly at you- which was strange- but the suspicion you felt in his stare made you believe he thought you were planning something.

Lowering your gun, you stared. He stared back.

But he couldn't find it in himself to come to any sort of truce. Just a blood fueled want and rage- pushing him onward as he pushed his nimble body up into the air and directly at you.

Wow.

He actually fell for it.

Running, straight at him, you knew it was too late for him to change direction- spiraling over your head and passing were you used to be idly standing.

Directly into the absolute tank of an infected that just rounded the corner.

You weren't dumb, and didn't dare spare a glance as you heard frantic clawing and angry roars.

The ground shook with the fight that you started, and all the noise brought on the sound of a horde- screeching out their disturbed cries as they ran towards where the fight was taking place.

You had to get out of the area as fast as possible. Ducking and dodging towards where the safe room was placed- or the direction you hoped it was in. The hordes screams only grew louder, and your footsteps only grew faster.

The hunter's frenzied yelps and snarls were drowned out by the noise- and you couldn't care less. You were darting forward, past the blurring buildings, all but gliding over a tall metal fence from all the adrenaline.

But eventually, you realized you didn't know where you were.

Too unfocused from the sheer amount of energy bounding against your veins- you ran, twisting through alleyways you had never seen- looming buildings blocking the sight of a familiar and haunting tower of Mercy Hospital.

Ducking into a random building, you threw yourself over the first thing you saw, keeping your body quiet and motionless.

The horde was heard, milling down the street in flurries of footsteps and strangled yells.

You tried your hardest to calm your frantic breathing- all but holding your breath to force the heaving of your lungs to quiet. Your teeth were clenched, hatefully so- the more time you spent keeping yourself alive- the less time there was to look for your companion.

The horde had just barely passed by when you stood from your hiding spot, watching the backs of them as they continued onto the next street. Holding your gun between your legs, you brushed your clothes off, not that it did much to affect how dirty they were, before clutching your weapon and strolling back onto the street.

If you were lost before hand- you had no idea where you were now. The only indication of which way to go was the looming figure of Mercy Hospital, just barely peeking over the top of a building.

You had to get back.

He could still be in that area.

Passing through a few alleyways, you refused to let your mind wander onto anything else.

Nothing else mattered.

Only finding him.

Only him.

God knows your siblings are probably already dead.

But him? He could still be out there- somewhere

Someplace you could reach-

With a harsh clunk of your shoe, you turned down yet another street, staring steely faced at the infected. Your pace didn't slow- neither did your will- neither did the beating of your frantic heart.

You killed without remorse.

Hands digging into your back- grabbing- pulling. And you killed.

The infected didn't matter. Your injuries didn't matter.

When you finally neared closer to where you first began running, you noticed the blood.

Layering the alley.

Chunks of concrete had been torn from the alley. A building had been completely smashed into, wrecked from the inside, before another gaping hole was lying on the other side. Blood was dripped in muddy sploshes.

A fight.

From the claw marks along a few support beams, and against the floor- accompanied with the giant smashes against ground and wall and brick, you could take a guess as to what it was.

That fight you started.

Who knows who's blood was everywhere.

Who cares who's blood was everywhere.

No enemies in sight- a positive thing- when all your mind could ponder was where your hunter was.

Taking one last glance at the carnage, you tread forward, trying your best to keep Mercy Hospital in sight and at the same time avoiding where the two must have took their battle.

Foreign blood lapped at the soul of your shoes, a few puddles of it splashing as you passed by.

Nimbly tiptoeing around some rubble, you noticed an increase in the debris the farther down this alleyway you went. A faint huffing noise immediately made you hightail it back where you came from. You slid behind the corner of the street, taking a peek back into the debris riddled alleyway. Apparently you didn't do well enough at avoiding where they went.

A rumble gently shook the ground, and you safely decided to turn in a different direction. Again.

It was easy to avoid the huffing of the tank, a slightly longer route around him was taken.

Closer to Mercy Hospital. That was all you needed.

You barely got a few feet into yet another new alley when you felt the creeping suspicion that something was watching you. A chill crawled down your spine, and movement in your upper peripheral forced you to look up.

At that grey hunter. His tattered body was laying against the siding of the roof, intently staring at you. Blood gushed off of him, soaking past his clothes and leaking onto the roof.

Even you could tell he was barely holding on.

A tired growl slipped him, before you watched him grab something.

An empty glass bottle.

He sent a look- from it- to you- before looking at the street you came from.

A familiar noise let off of him- that happy sort of chur you had heard coming from your friend so many times before. His arm reeled back, before chucking the bottle as far as he could- it clattered against a car across the street, shattering on impact and letting off a familiar beeping noise.

Oh God.

This fucker he-

You tore your eyes off the car and looked up to where he was-

He was gone.

And you needed to be- as not a moment later you heard the roaring of that tank and rumbling as he charged.

You didn't have any adrenaline left- but ran despite that.

The horde from before could be heard in the distance, back tracking and running back towards the car alarm.

The tank had rounded into the first alleyway he saw- which just so happened to be yours-

And life is a bitch- you had to remember that- as the bulky infected spotted your back just as you turned the corner.

Shit- you had to get to cover.

Frantic glances were shot all across the street- catching themselves particularly at the roof of a building. Higher up was always safe- but how would you get there?

You can't jump up like a damn hunter- you were just a regular human.

Regardless, you began rushing towards it, hearing the tank grow closer.

Your eyes darted to the left of the building, recognizing a fire escape on the side of the building. The ladder was pulled up- yet again- and you most certainly wouldn't be able to make it up that.

Still running towards it, you noticed the car parked against the curb.

A good few feet sat between the vehicle, and the fire escape- but what more could you do?

With a hop, skip, and a jump onto the car, you took a moment to balance yourself- the tank so close his deep yelling sent vibrations down your spine.

Oh god- can you even make that jump-

Rather then getting time to ponder just how far you could jump- the tank had caught up- all but uppercutting you in the back to reach you from atop the car.

Perfect angle, you supposed. Your body was sent careening off the car, directly into the fire escape.

The wind was punched out of you- and without even being able to take a breath, you scurried up the steps. Gasps, and coughs flew from you in a fit, hands pressing the side of your gun into your stomach as you attempted to clutch your lungs.

You. Couldn't. Breathe.

But you couldn't stop running either- or the car you briefly saw the tank grabbing would hit and kill you faster then you could kill yourself.

It was agony- gasping on nothing, and clawing your way up.

The car was sent towards the escape- hitting it and nearly sending you toppling over the side-

You kept running, nearing the top and making a mad jump over the railing and directly onto the concrete ground. Your limp body hit against the roof with a dull splat of skin and thump of clothes, skin scraping as you rolled onto your back and clutched your abdomen.

Faintly, you could hear the tank, attempting to climb the fire escape, only to pull the hole thing careening down with all the damage it sustained.

Your gasping didn't ease up. If you had to run any more, you knew you wouldn't be able to.

Imagine the horror when you spot a figure, landing on the rooftop and crawling frightfully closer to you. Grey hoodie bloody- still barely hanging on- not unlike yourself.

The only difference between you two was he could still move. And you couldn't.

Ambling closer to you, he took his time.

Face set in a stone cold frown sort of way- no emotion- simply the want of death reeking from him. Your companion was exactly the same way some time ago-

Bitterly, you realized even now you where thinking of him.

All but on your death bed and your last thoughts were, 'wow- just like him.'

Letting out a few heavy breaths, your rib cage ached with the pain that the tank inflicted. Even when your breath started to return, you could barely move with how tight everything clenched in ache.

You kept your breath as steady as you could, but you could barely keep it calm. Instead, you drew deep breaths in- short breaths out- barely subdued panic lacing every exhale.

The hunter took another moment longer.

Undisturbed by how helpless you were.

Was it entertaining?

Watching you suffer?

Was it satisfaction?

Satisfaction that another kill was under his belt?

Because you were most definitely another kill.

Maybe it was sadness- that yet another innocent would be taken by his claws.

Who fucking knew.

You certainly didn't.

All you knew was that when he stood- uncomfortably on his legs- and put one foot on the other side of you body- this was it.

He sat himself directly on you- knees against the ground, caging you- even though you already could barely move.

His added weight hurt your aching body much more then one would imagine, you seethed at that, clenching your fists as hard as you could (which wasn't that hard) and wincing.

Another glance up, into his hood, and the jagged lines that ran through his just barely visible and damaged eyes told you enough about him. No one was there for him when he turned.

Suddenly, he reeled, arm raising, claws pointed, before lunging-

His mangled hand was quick to pass over the length of your torso.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)  
;)  
Hope yall enjoy  
getting ur guts clawed out
> 
> ALso- i can confirm- grey hoodie hunter was very smug when he threw that glass bottle. absolutely the smuggest thing.


	13. The Return

The moment his claws raked down your torso, was the moment you shot your weary hands out, grabbing his wrists at they tried to raise up for another slash.

Your writhed under the pressure of his push, fingers firmly clenched against his wrist's- so hard that your knuckles felt like they were splitting- so hard that the yelp that fell from the hunter's mouth formed into another deathly snarl of rage.

He slammed his hands down as far as he could, flattening your back as you weakly kept his biting mouth away from your skin.

Baited breath-

Wide eyes-

You stared, into the unknown, into the eyes of death itself, and refused to bow.

However much that hunter bent and twisted at you, your arms refused to fully meet the ground.

The only reason he hadn't already torn through you, or shook your arms off, was because of how injured he was.

His nose was leaking blood, which dribbled onto your neck. The liquid was grossly hot, sending a chill down your spine, as the next growl he released was garbled with a different blood.

His lungs were punctured. You realized that after hearing the heaving he did as he put in another forceful push against your arms.

He was dying.

And you were watching.

He writhed, getting as best he could to his feet, before dropping his weight back on you- trying everything to get you to release.

You were sicker then the infected themselves.

Feeling no remorse as he let out a distorted scream. The force of dropping on you only pushed one of his ribs further into his lungs.

However tired you were, a smirk couldn't help but lift against your face.

Maybe you still had a chance.

A ticking noise resounded from across the roof. A new set of claws pausing as though surprised at the scene.

Your eyes loosely drifted to the noises direction, shakily taking in the sight of a blue hood. The hair that peeked out, so dark it could almost be black- light enough just to let someone know it was brown made your eyes nearly water.

The force from above you finally prevailed, slamming your arms down onto the roof. But you didn't look at its bloody heaving, too focused on the blurry figure that set another uneasy and crouching step closer.

You barely got to mumble out his name before he flung himself directly at you, barreling the other hunter off in one fell sweep- the sound uttering from his mouth the noise only seen in nightmares. Anger fiercely radiated off of him, dripping into the atmosphere out of the sheer heaviness.

The grey hooded hunter returned that growl, much weaker, much more gurgled.

Christian's body loomed over you, focused sheerly on the threat. His snarls vibrated the air around you, forcing you to shut your eyes. The size difference between the two was apparent, your companion an unshakable storm, and the stranger a lowly faucet.

Finally, the boiling tension between the two snapped, both flying at each other, a flurry of claws and teeth and screaming, that ended incredibly quickly.

The most his opponent got in on him was a kick in the abdomen, and a hefty claw down the face before he went motionless.

Christian held his crushed neck between his teeth, snarling through the other hunter's blood with a claw placed onto its chest.

It was brutal, but quick, and you stared at him as he let the tension in his jaw release the dead.

You attempted to sit up, wincing and laying back down as you felt your muscles seize up. It caught Christian's attention- as he finally turned his wayward and swirling green eyes in your direction.

You held a hand up at him, reaching for him as tears attempted to blur your vision.

His form froze. Watching your hands reach to him, eyeing the gap between your bodies.

Blood dripped off of him. Some from his enemy, and some from where the other hunter clawed into him.

Without much more thought, he glided over with a strut of his limbs, pressing his face against your outstretched hand. The blood didn't bother you.

He grew closer, your hand following his cheek as he kneeled beside you. Your other hand rose up, sliding against the other side of his wet face as you pulled his body farther down towards you.

It felt so whimsical- seeing him, feeling him.

You thought you'd never experience this again.

Your fingers reached behind his head, sorting through his scratchy hair and pushing the hood off of him. His eyes were so soft. so, so soft as he all but layed his forehead against your own. A twitch of his lips turned into the smallest smile possible on his face.

"Hey..." Your raspy voice spoke, finally pulling him entirely down into an awkwardly positioned hug. His arms didn't returned it at first, hesitantly gliding their way up your back after he realized what was happening.

The claws that clutched your shirt shook only lightly.

You didn't want to release him. Never again.

All you wanted was to hold him close to you in this warm and cautious embrace.

Finally, you loosened your hold on his head, letting you hands reposition themselves to his shoulder blades.

He took in a deep breath, pressing his bloody face against your neck with a rubbing motion. A happy rumble filled his chest, as he hugged you just a little bit closer.

You chuckled, limply letting him release you to look you in the eyes. That small smile was still there, and you attempted to sit up yet again, nearly giving up before your felt him cup your back into a sitting position.

He curled his hand around your waist, nearly closing his eyes in contentment. The warmth in you had yet to fade, as you reached up and pulled his head closer again. He curiously let you, watching as you pressed a soft kiss against his forehead.

You couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking- what and if any sort of coherent thoughts were remaining in him.

He looked at you, questioningly, raising a claw to feel his forehead before looking intently at your own forehead.

He leaned in, pausing and passing a look into your eyes, before pressing his lips gently across your head.

It wasn't a kiss in the most traditional sense, just a brush of his lips across your skin, feathery and soft and warm- but the feeling a happiness spread all the same.

He was here with you- alive and well- and it made you so so happy- nearly combusting at the seams with how warm and... loved, you felt.

Grabbing him into another hug, you nuzzled your face against the hoodie of his chest.

He huffed, not at all displeased, rumbling growing louder as he proceeded to reciprocate the hug. He pulled you closer, and closer, practically smothering you into his chest with his strength.

The message was there- the very same one you chanted to yourself, over and over-

'I don't want to leave.'

You gave another final squeeze, parting from the hug just enough to see the look on his face-

Nose scrunched up as his eyes squinted in a contented look. His smile had faded- only partially, getting softer as his eyes met your own.

'I don't want to leave you.'

You couldn't help but pull him into another hug.

And he couldn't help but return it.

You gave voice to the small yet endearing feeling that seeped through your bones, and surely through the hug that Christian was giving you, "I never want to leave you." Your voice had the raspiest sound you ever thought it had, quiet to a fault, yet he listened as though it was the most important thing he'd ever heard.

The hug only grew stronger, in that little moment of silence.

A small pause in the ever continuing shit show that was your life.

The noise of a helicopter passing overhead- blaring out its message of safety, is what finally brought you to.

Your eyes, previously shut, opened, and your head, previously buried into his neck, lifted.

Your placement had changed, you practically being cradled in his lap.

And oh gosh.

His legs were much different then you remembered.

The bones were jutting out awkwardly, pants ripping at the knees and (strangely high) ankles.

It didn't look normal anymore.

More joints- more points of power that could lessen falling. They looked cat like, in a way.

His shoes were still in tact, but much more raggedy then before.

Taking in a long breath, you struggled to get off his lap, pausing when you watched him give you a strange facial expression.

"Oh shut up- I was just punched by a tank." You huffed at him, struggling even more as you wiggled off his lap.

He gave you another blank face before seeming to realize what you were doing.

Taking in a breath, he reached for you, wrapping his arms around you and standing straight up.

You were pulled up, limp in his grasp and all but boneless as you tried to touch your feet to the ground.

He gave you another look, sultry and happy at the same time as he shifted you even higher, a single arm on your back, and the other under your legs.

Another purr shook through his throat, and he persistently nuzzled in closer to you.

"Come ooon..." you pulled back to see his face, "We have to catch that helicopter..."

Despite saying that, you continued looking him in the eyes, pressing both your hands against his head and dropping your head against his own.

The flat look on his face spoke volumes- questioning your tone of urgency, yet not understanding how to remedy it.

Your voice fell to a whisper, "I missed you- but we have to keep moving."

His breath fanned across your face as he exhaled, before he took one last moment to bury his head against your shoulder. A low groan resounded in his throat- one that seemed begrudging. He didn't want to stop.

And rightly, neither did you.

But with your reason finally returning to you, you knew something needed to be done.

Slowly, he began lowering you to the ground, so, so careful with you.

Like you would break with the slightest force of strength.

All things considered, it did feel like you were going to break.

Being punched by a tank, and partially clawed by a hunter would do that to someone.

Even after your feet touched the ground, your companion kept a tight grip on you, forcefully making himself your crutch, no matter how much you kept trying to shrug him off. You wanted to insist that you were fine, but really you knew you couldn't walk without him.

Begrudgingly, you accepted that help, surrendering your attitude in favor of nuzzingly into his side.

You missed him.

Watching with the precision of a hawk, you watched as the helicopter began circling Mercy Hospital.

Did-

Did they call it?

Were they leaving?

Tensing, you didn't bother to figure out if it was or not- you needed to move- and now.

But you'd never make it in time.

No amount of slow paced limping and crutch walking would get you up that hospital building in time.

Instead you looked to your companion, watching as he eyed you, smile gone, and that neutral monotone face replacing it.

"Hey-" you started, desperation already setting into your voice, "Could you jump up there?"

He titled his head, blinked, and proceeded to just continue helping you limp in some random direction.

"No. Nonono- I'm done walking- we'd never make it."

Using your free hand you reached up to grab his jaw, feeling his muscles as he clenched his teeth together at your touch.

Forcefully, you turned him to look at mercy hospital, frowning when even though you turned his face away from you, he all but refused to glance his eyes in any other direction then on you.

Squinting, you snapped your jaw at him in annoyance, seeing him frown at your distress.

Like the puppy he is, he just tried to pull you in for another hug- to which you immediately rejected, stumbling and hobbling closer to the edge of the roof without his help.

Not that hobbling could stop him from slinging his arm around you again, forcibly being your crutch- and allowing you to walk toward the edge without too much trouble.

With a pointing finger, you tried directing his attention toward the hospital again, seeing him take in your finger, then your face. One spare glance was given to the far off distance, but who knows if he even focused on what you were pointing at.

"Up!" You pointed, crouching and doing a weak jump upward. The tilt in his head only shifted farther, all but cranking his head sideways in confusion.

With a quick movement, he hoisted you up off the ground- holding you at arm length distance and tilting that puppy dog look at you.

"No." You flatly grumbled, feeling panic seep deep into your back. You both really needed to rush if you were ever going to ever have a chance of finding safety.

He slowly set you back down, still holding you arms length in order to observe what you were doing.

There wasn't anyway he could get the message could he?

No secrect hunter trick- or a command made from habit and nature. You felt a bit lost- not in an existential way, and more of a confounded sort of 'this is a hard question' sort of way. Not nearly as bad as when he went missing, but god- you really wanted to escape this hellscape of a city.

Maybe- do something he's done?

Ooor- gesture to his legs??

Would that even work?

Throwing a quick look into his questioning eyes, you pointed at his... oddly shaped legs- before making a jumping motion- to which he just let out a confused growl.

Aaahh- of course that wouldn't work.

But then he did something.

A small little hop, that jostled you where you stood-

He mimicked you.

You could work with that.

Smiling, you decided that giving him positive feedback for that would make him do it again, "YES. Uuuh- that's kinda what I want you to do-"

His lips twitched upwards, and his eyes were ticking and shining with all the cogs turning inside his head.

The helicopter was still circling- still wasn't landing- but still wasn't going out to try to alert more survivors of a potential rescue. Maybe you still had time.

Jumping, again more of a strange hobbled hop if anything, you watched as he mimicked again, "Yassss- Jump- Up-" You pointed to the helicopter, "We might be able to make it."

Reaching your arms out, you grabbed onto his hoodie, dragging it and forcing him down. As much as you could call it forcing. You knew if he could easily stand there, but he kneeled none the less at your touch.

So there you were. Crouched- face to face with a hunter.

How you ever had gotten to this point was a mystery- and that strange, nagging desire to press fleeting kisses all over his lovable, yet injured face was quickly suppressed as you wormed your way around him and onto his back.

You felt a shiver run down his spine, and he shifted, simultaneously trying to sneak a peak at you and grow accustomed to the pressure you place on his back.

Giving him a quick pat on the cheek, you turned him in the direction of mercy hospital, pointing a finger towards it and watching as he just barely took in the building.

This was a now or never situation, and you just hoped his picked some small clue of what you meant and wanted.

You waited, pointing a finger at his legs the best you could and said, "Can you jump?"

He didn't look at you this time. Simply staring at the direction you last pointed him in. He lifted a claw off the ground and softly brushed his jaw, which you had grabbed to direct his attention to the hospital.

Great- he's daydreaming.

Groaning, you layed your head against his shoulder.

You could feel his heart beat pick up as you did so, the hard muscles of his back tensing against your cheek. It took a few moments for him to loosen up, and by now- you could pretty much assume its useless trying to get him to do anything.

Taking in another deep breath, your sigh was long and shallow at the same time.

"Why can't you just take us up."

Almost as if a something clicked, he dropped his body, before launching himself up into the air.

Your body nearly rag dolled, just barely holding on- fingers digging into the fabric of his chest and legs haphazardly strewn over his hips.

Oh god oh god oh god-

You were going to fall right off of him-

Your whole body shook when he landed- the force of falling shaking your every bone. Without a doubt- if he wasn't adapted to falling harshly, the both of you would be dead.

Your teeth chattered out of pure excitement, chills and adrenaline forcing your arms into a deadlock around him. Your legs were in a similar position, so tightly wound against his abdomen, your not sure you yourself could release.

"...Uuh-.. okay-" You started, not even sure where you were trying to take that sentence. You could tell your hunter was listening, but you didn't bother to finish the thought.

You simply pressed your face into his back and mumble another, "Up."

And up he went- higher higher- clawing against the side of a building to switch directions and bound even farther farther up.

He didn't stop until he reached the top of a very high building.

Not nearly as high as Mercy Hospital, but high enough that the both of us could see unhindered by the surrounding environment.

The air was crisp- and cold- and it grated on your lungs. The wind was harsher then it was on the ground, and you couldn't help but shiver.

From here, you could see their faint silhouettes fighting across an infected covered roof- tank's charging from in the distance.

A breathy, "Up." came from your mouth, continuing to look forward even as your stomach dropped into your gut, and the wind feverishly whipped your eyes.

You could feel Christian's every move- feel the thrum of his power, his breath, the shifting of his lean back.

He landed onto another building top, and you barely paused before mumbling another, "Up."

The helicopter was leaving. You could see it, Zoey the last one in before it took off. Flying directly towards you- it would be a matter of moments before they were overhead.

Your arm acted accordingly.

One hand releasing your death grip, soothingly reaching to his chin and gently pushing upwards.

He saw the helicopter.

Just as it got close enough- just as the perfect chance arose.

"Up."

And up he went.

A spiraling jump, that was so far up that you weren't sure you would make it. You held on for dear life, as you could feel the momentum begin to die out. You thought you would fall- for a moment,before he landed his claws directly on the edge of the helicopter.

He slid, frantically flexing his legs for any sort of give with his claws, just barely managing to dig his fingers into the floor.

The group has seen you by now, Francis already standing- all but throwing his gun on his seat to instead throw a hand in your direction.

He braced himself against the frame of the helicopter, and you tried your best to reach for him.

Christian was still wiggling beneath you, trying and failing to gain any sort of leverage against the slick metal.

With a lunge, you grabbed Francis's hand, immediately after feeling the hands of the others grabbing your clothes to keep you from falling over.

You made it.

You were stable, and standing, and in that helicopter.

But at what cost.

With a glance back, you were met with Christian's eyes, just as he slipped completely.

Ah.

What a sense of nostalgia.

Here you were- on the edge of a choke point- on the edge of oblivion-

They're waiting for you- they all are- both Christian, and the group- and even yourself.

This was your choice, your decision to make-

And this was where your path would split.

You didn't bother to look back.

Only forward.

And therefore, downward.

You jumped, right after him-

Zoey's call of, "We're heading South!" was just barely heard, over the rushing wind. The choir of yells that came from the group was completely drowned out as you dived directly towards Christian.

Luckily your quick action meant there was only a few feet between you-

And while he was heavier then you twice over, he was spreading himself out to try to let you get to him in time.

You collided with his back just in time, the buildings grower steeper and steeper- while your hunter angled himself in such a way that with a small movement, he was jamming his claws into the side of a concrete building.

Down, down, down- concrete grinding against his claws and feet until the two of you came to a complete halt- hanging off the side of a random building, and suspended nearly three stories above the ground.

You didn't even try to reason a way out of the situation, just clinging on for dear life, and shutting your eyes as tight as they would close.

Christian was heaving- from what you weren't sure. It had to be from physical exertion, or the adrenaline from falling out of a helicopter that was higher up then the skyscraper that was mercy hospital. Maybe it was both, but all you knew was that you missed you chance at being rescued.

So did Christian, even if it didn't really matter to him anymore.

You missed the chance- and now you were just...

H e r e.

Sitting on the side of a building.

And honestly- this was where you'd rather be.

You'd rather be right here with Christian- then any other grubby place in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SKURT
> 
> skEEt
> 
> well we just stuck in this city now LOL


	14. A Not So Different Season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AYE- IM BACK- BREIFLY LOL
> 
> This chappie is shorter, but a breif intro into the new life style change

Time had passed incredibly fast after the fiasco at Mercy Hospital. Or, rather events had passed fast.

Despite not knowing exactly where the group was heading, or where they would stop, or who they would meet up with, you had decided to head south.

Get out of the city, get away from every old and happy memory you could remember. 

You snuck right out of that city, Christian at your side. Maybe twenty miles from your home city, and you had scavenged up enough fuel to jack some random car off the road. You aimed for a jeep (high tires and all) but unluckily, the quickest and easiest thing you found was some truck- open trunk, and only a bench one seat up front.

It was manageable.

So was driving another thirty two miles farther south.

What was not manageable, was the fucking infestation you had just walked into. 

One moment you're cautiously sneaking into a gas station for supplies, and the next, infected at all angles-

BOOM- no extra gas for you, no snacks, and worst of all, no Swedish fish for Christian.

You ran out of that store faster then you thought you could, feeling a few tear into the skin of your back as you jumped into your truck, car door left open exactly for this reason.

You forced Christian to wait in the car- (seat belt on and all that). Briefly you made eye contact with his grumpy face while you turned the key, before looking forward and slamming the gas down. 

A few minutes of driving, and the infected that had got on the roof finally fell off.

You had barely gotten down the road before you looked at his seatbelt-less chest, "Put your seat belt on."

He didn't answer- to your chagrin. 

Without taking your eyes off the road, you reached over, grabbed the seat belt, and forced it into his hand, "Seatbelt. Now."

A few moments of silence, and a few moments of struggling later, and Christian was safely buckled inside the vehicle. His claws poked a few new holes in his seat belt, but the mere fact that he can buckle himself of his own violation is progress.

Flicking your attention to your companion, you made eye contact with his squinted greens. His facial expression spoke more then words ever could.

An irritated grumble. To which you immediately rebuked, "Psh- no. you know it was smart not to take you. You growl every time you enter a room. "

He let out another massive grumble, twisting awkwardly in his seat, and refusing to stretch out across the bench like he usually does.

"I'm right, your wrong end of argument. "

He snuffed, crossing his arms over his broad chest and shifting his dumb raptor legs around. Because for whatever reason, the infection was mutating differently in him- and it gave him the biggest looking rapter like legs, that made him loom even taller over you then before.

Wincing as you shifted gears, his eyes snapped down to the bleeding scratch along your hand and fingers.

His body jolted forward as though to try to investigate your injury farther, before he suddenly seemed to remember his brooding attitude, reverting back to crossing his arms.

"Christian. " you started- briefly shifting you eyes to look at him, watching the spark of recognition churn in his head at the name you spoke.

He knows its him, but only because you taught him like you would a dog.

Not because he remembers. 

He kept waiting for your sentence to continue, but it didn't. Instead silence filtered through the truck, and after another solid five minutes of Christian brooding, you decided to break it.

With a sigh and a roll of your eyes you said, "I'll take ya next time bud."

It wasn't an immediate effect- and you were sure it was because he was having trouble processing what you said, but you had said 'next time' enough times for some sort of recognition. 

His attempt to stay mad after recognizing the word was admiral, but he seemed to return to normal whether he liked it or not. 

A small stretch of his long torso, and a small content growl, he flopped his head into your lap, claws still crossed over his chest.

He wasn't sleepy. It was just something he tended to do. Sitting there, watching as you moved the steering wheel around.

It was a small comfort. One that you cherished.

Taking a hand off the wheel, you lightly ran a hand through his hair, feeling him exhale and go limp. 

Sighing, you kept your eyes focused on the road. A never ending road, and one that seemed fruitless to even go down. You didn't know how far South the group went, you could be slipping right past them at this very moment. Right past them, and you wouldn't know it.

But hey- at least you had Christian. You threw a quick glance at him on your lap, meeting his eyes as he watched you.

He honestly pulled you through so much shit that you should have already died to. The pain in your ribs ached at the thought- as did the scabbing claw marks on your chest. Even the still healing bite he put on your arm was was aching at the thought. So much shit.

Your living, and so is he. That's all that really matters.

At this point, you were almost hitting Georgia, riding close to the coast line, and driving through towns that surprisingly looked less beat up then the city you came from. Perhaps the infection didn't hit them as early as it did up North.

Three days, give or take, and you'd be somewhere in Georgia.

A few hours since the store you tried to grab supplies at, and you were pulling into a quaint place by the name of New Burn. A small city, that surprise surprise, was lacking the activity that a normal city should have. No cars driving around, and honking at each other, and not a living person in sight jay walking.

The day was nearing dusk, and you figured you should bunker down somewhere for the night, but not before filling up on snacks and gas.

Parking at the curb next to a gas station, you unbuckled your seat belt, waiting for Christian to do the same before stepping out of the car and lightly closing your door as to not draw attention. Christian did the same, though noticeably more clumsy, all but slamming the door behind him as he placed one taloned foot after the other onto the cement and closer to you.

Shifting your gun around, you cautiously walked towards the gas station, nudging the door open with your hip, before stepping in and aiming your gun.

Christian slid past you, letting out a deep grumble of warning, stepping around with his big legs and making a bunch of unneeded noise. You took a left, checking the aisles as you went before stopping near the cash register, Christian kept poking his head around the right side of the store, so you took it upon yourself to check the employees only door. You ignored the sound of a crinkling bag coming from Christian's side.

Moseying in, gun at ready, you were pleasantly surprised to not find any infected. You picked around at the break room, loading up a good eight water bottles into your backpack, as well as a few knives, and a small pack of cigarettes. For Bill- if you ever found him again.

You hoarded as many supplies as you could find, and the farther South you went, the more plentiful stuff like food and water seemed to get, supporting your theory of the infection not reaching them as quickly.

The floor creaked near the employees only entrance, and the small chur of question that came from whoever it was quickly let you know it was your companion. He swiftly came up to you, settling on standing beside you and watching what you were stuffing into your backpack.

You glanced at the bag he was holding toward you- the newly opened bag of Swedish fish wafting a sugary scent. With a laugh, and a roll of your eyes, you took one. He contentedly grumbled, dumping a few in his mouth before plopping down on a break room booth.

This would be a decent place to set up for the night- a high window near the ceiling to escape from, brick walls, near the cities edge-

Throwing you backpack on your back, you started off for your truck, hearing Christian immediately shuffle to get up. He followed you to the truck, watching you throw most of the stuff you found in the break room into the front seat, before you climbed into the truck, and began sorting through the stuff you've collected.

He huffed, jumping onto the roof of the car and crouching keeping a lookout most likely. He shoved a few more swedish fish into his mouth, the bag having been carefully shoved in his hoodie pocket.

You grabbed a few things, the siphon for gas, the spare gas can, and your sleeping supplies.

Having extra gas was always helpful, because you never know when you'll find more, so with a quick jump down you head towards the gas pump. Christian kept a watchful eye on you from atop the truck, plopping down into the trunk and nestling himself among your luggage and multiple backpacks.

Siphoning gas was a process that got tedious incredibly fast, three minutes or so of monitoring it, and making sure it was actually getting gas, and you thew it in the back of your trunk, right next to Christian, who peeked at you from the over the edge, still chomping down on Swedish fish.

"Come on- we're holding the fort in that break room."

He chuffed, slinking out of the trunk as you threw a tarp over your supplies. It wasn't exactly the safest to leave everything outside, but it was too much work to bring it in.

You just grabbed your blankets, and walked in, barring the doors behind you and setting up in the break room.

A few more hours were spent in the front of the store, snacking on a pair of chips and watching the daylight drop into nothing but darkness.

Christian sat next to you on the floor, staring at you mainly, but trying his best to understand why you would look blankly out of a window for so long.

"..." 

You yawned. Exhausted after driving for so long. 

Idly, you reached for Christian's hand, holding it and feeling the set of claws he had.

He was always so passive with you, which you found hilarious in a way. Start off trying to kill you, end up a faithful companion who let's you grab his killing claws whenever you want.

He plopped his head on your shoulder, letting out a huff of tiredness.

"Yeah yeah, I hear ya." You muttered. Standing up, you looked at him expectedly, "Let's get some sleep."

With nothing else to object to, he followed you in into the break room.

You threw yourself under your blankets, lifting the covers to let your companion in as well. He latched onto you, slinging his arms around your waist and nuzzling into your side.

If past you was around she would have slapped you for letting a killer wrap himself with you, but she wasn't, and you let yourself sink into the warmth he gave off.

With a crinkle, he one handedly pulled the Swedish fish bag out of his pocket and pressed the last peice of sugar to your lips.

With a laugh, you pushed his hand away, "It's not good to eat sugar before sleeping."

He tried again, grumbling when you held his wrists in place. 

"No- you can keep it bud."

Smiling, you looked at his face, the quiet sad look in his face his only argument.

Squinting at him in an attempt to stay firm, you rolled your eyes with a huff.

"Alright you little gremlin-" Snatching the Swedish fish you popped it in your mouth, "Have it your way."

He gave you a tiny smile, eye crinkling, before he outright buried himself into your side.

"Glad someone's happy." You murmured, gently stroking through his hair.

Life was much more freeing now that you didn't have a chain dragging the two of you together.

You could run, and shoot, and dodge all you wanted without being jerked in a different direction.

Life was definitely more pleasant. 

A spare glance to your hunters massive form nestled into you was all you needed to assure yourself of that fact.

**Author's Note:**

> ree
> 
> This story is also on wattpad, under the name NorthForCause.  
Incidentally, it's also on quotev, also under the name of NorthForCause


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